Waiting for Him (Waiting Series Book 3) (24 page)

      “Here she is mommy. I changed her diaper so she’s all ready for breakfast.” He straps her into her high chair as I cut up some pancakes.

      “I’m going to take my shower first. What time do we need to leave here to make it on time?” I glance up at the clock on the wall.

      “We need to leave in an hour.” We’re going to a Beacon University Family Day Reunion, and I’m looking forward to reconnecting with some people I haven’t seen since I graduated. Hailey and Cory will be there with their son Cory junior, who they call C.J. and Garrett and Sloane are also going. Sloane and I are great friends and she’s a wonderful step mom to Liam. She and Garrett just got married a few months ago and they’re perfect for each other. Garrett and I have managed to forge and amazing friendship and he’s someone who’s always there when I need him. Surprisingly enough, he and Jeff have also become friends and they sometimes hang out with my brother’s Greyson and Aiden. I never thought I’d see this day come, but I’m so relieved it has. 

      Our journey to get to this point wasn’t easy, but I wouldn’t change a thing. Fate threw her fair share of obstacles in our path, but we made it over them all, and now it’s all smooth sailing from this point on.

CADEN - Coming September 2016

Chapter One

Caden

      Denley Thomas is a daily fixture at our house and at night, she’s the porn star going down on me in my dreams. She’s not really a porn star, but she sure gives head like one...in my fantasies anyway. In reality, she’s my older sister Lane’s best friend, and she wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole...not even if my pole were ten feet long. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know I exist which is too bad for me because I’m all too aware of her existence. I notice everything about her...and wish I didn’t. I’ve never wanted to be a part of some unrequited teenage crush, I don’t imagine that’s something anyone ever really hopes for. Denley and I have what you’d call a love-hate relationship...I love her, and she hates me. Well, most of the time she pretends I’m not even there. Occasionally if I push her buttons just right I can really piss her off, and it’s during these times that I’ll catch a glimpse of her fiery temper as it’s aimed in my direction. She’s a sight for sore eyes when her Irish is up, with her sky blue eyes flashing and her long brown hair being tossed about. I recognize the unbridled passion she keeps a tight rein on, and I fantasize about what it would be like to drown in all that pent up emotion as I bury myself inside her repeatedly. I realize it will probably never happen and that there are tons of other girls I know that would be more than happy to pay some attention to me and my lonely dick.

      I must be a glutton for punishment or just plain delusional to think that Denley will ever notice me as anything more than her friend’s younger brother. I pacify myself by thinking that nothing is impossible, and that means there’s a chance for us. It might be a slim chance, but I’ll take what I can get when it comes to her. In the meantime, my dirty thoughts and my hand will have to suffice.

      Lane and Denley both go to the same small college in a nearby town so they’re over here all the time, mooching home cooked meals from my mother and doing their laundry to avoid using the coin operated machines. They live on campus in a small two-bedroom house they rent for cheap money. It’s not the nicest place, but the price is right considering Lane has to pay for her portion, and she can only work part-time three nights a week as a waitress at Duke’s. Denley also works there as a bartender, and I know she makes great money. She’s always talking about what large tips she gets and I can only imagine the attention she’s showered with from all the college guys who go there. Jealousy eats at me when I think of her flirting with the bar patrons. I wish I were old enough to legally hang out at Duke’s, but I’m only eighteen and a senior in high school. Even though there’s only four years separating Denley and me in age, sometimes it feels like a lifetime.

      We live in a small town in Northern Virginia, in the house that my late grandmother was born in, and my mother was raised in. We didn’t always live here, only for the past five years. My dad was a cop who was shot and killed in the line of duty. I was thirteen when he passed and sometimes it still seems as though he’s only at work for the day and he’ll be home in time for dinner. Dad and I were close; he was my best friend. He always set aside “guy time,” for us every Saturday afternoon. It didn’t matter what we did, all that mattered was that we were together.

      I’ll never forget the day he passed as long as I’m still breathing. It began like any other, me getting ready for school and him going to work. If I had known that would be the last time I’d see him I would’ve made sure I told him how much I loved him, and I would’ve made sure I hugged him extra-long. I definitely wouldn’t have run by him, a hurried goodbye muttered with a mouth full of toast and a wave of my hand as I ran out the door to catch the school bus.

      When I got called down to the office later that morning I didn’t think anything of it. I wasn’t a troublemaker, I was a good student, and I knew it couldn’t be for anything I’d done. It wasn’t until I saw Lane standing there that I realized something was wrong. As I walked down the empty school corridor in her direction, my rubber soled sneakers making a squeaking noise with each step I took, I caught sight of the devastation on her face. I knew at that moment it was bad, and my life would never be the same.

      When I got in Lane’s car, she told me our father had been shot and he was in surgery at that very moment. She drove us straight to the hospital and my mother collapsed in my arms as soon as she saw me. I tried to be strong for her, tried to be the man of the family while my dad fought for his life on the operating table, but inside I was silently crying tears for my best friend who might not survive.

      The three of us sat in the waiting room designated for the family members of people having surgery. I held my mother’s hand, trying to offer her what little comfort I could at the tender age of thirteen. I felt helpless as we sat there in silence, listening to every single second tick by on the large wall clock. Tick...tick...tick. It’s amazing how such a tiny sound can claw at the edges of your sanity, making you want to tear it off the wall and smash it to pieces.

      We waited for news of how he was doing for what seemed like forever. I prayed to God to save my dad in a nonstop chant in my head, afraid that if I stopped for a single second, it would somehow affect the outcome of his surgery. When the surgeon came through the door, I could tell by his expression that my dad was gone. In that moment, I was overcome with panic and devastation so sudden it almost brought me to my knees. Pain gripped my chest making my heart feel like it was being squeezed inside my chest cavity. Breathing was impossible, and I had to bend over to keep myself from passing out. As I was tenaciously clinging to consciousness, I heard my mother scream and then she began sobbing hysterically. My sister’s sobs joined hers as I slowly raised my head and gauged my ability to stand upright. The black spots around the edges of my vision were gone and I was capable of drawing air in my lungs once again. The painful ache in my chest was still there and little did I know it would continue to return, every time I thought about the loss of my father.

      The days immediately following my father’s death are somewhat of a blur to me. I vaguely remember neighbors and friends stopping by our house to offer their condolences and to drop off various meals and casseroles. I mostly stayed in my room, lying on my bed, thinking about my dad and letting the tears that I didn’t want anyone else to witness, flow. Lane would knock on my door from time to time to check on me and remind me to eat. She wasn’t handling it any better than I was, she was just better at putting up a front for my mother.

      The wake was held in a funeral parlor near the police station in town. The line of people who came to pay their respects to my dad stretched all the way out the front door and around the side of the building. It was a nice tribute to him, and he would’ve been proud to see how many people were there.

      The funeral the next day was held at the church where my parents were married, and Lane and I were baptized. The pews were filled with other cops and their families. There weren’t many dry eyes by the time the service was finished. I’m sure what happened to him struck a little too close to home for the family members of his police buddies. Losing one of their own makes them all realize they’re not immortal. What happened to my dad, could happen to any of them. All it took was a cracked out, down on his luck scumbag to unexpectedly pull a gun and shoot him in the stomach. The bullet wreaked too much havoc on his internal organs, and there was too much damage to repair. Thankfully, the guy who shot him is now dead. He was killed by my dad’s partner and for a long time, I was conflicted because I was so relieved that he was gone. It would have been devastating if he had gotten away. He took so much from me when he pulled that trigger. It’s been five years now, and I still think of him...still miss him every single day. It’s a longing that’ll never leave me. 

      A couple of days after the funeral my mother sat Lane and I down and informed us that she would be selling the house and we would be moving to Virginia to live with her mother. I didn’t want to leave Massachusetts...didn’t want to leave the house with all the memories of my father...didn’t want to leave all of my friends.
Hadn’t we been through enough changes in the past five days?

      We were able to finish out our current school year before we moved in late June. My mom sold most of the furniture with the house, except for our beds and dressers. Everything that was left the movers were able to fit in a small cube truck. We slept on air mattresses the last couple of nights there. I had already said my goodbyes to my closest friends and I had all their phone numbers so we could still remain in touch. I was realistic about us staying in contact, knowing that most of my friends and I would lose touch no matter how good our intentions were not to. I did think that my friendship with my best bud Max would last. We were tight like brothers, and my father’s death hit him really hard. He wasn’t close to his own dad so he used to love being around mine. His parents had mentioned letting him come down to Virginia on one of the school breaks for a visit and he and I would be playing xbox together all the time. We had also made future plans to attend the same college and be roommates.               

      Lane had left early that morning to spend one last day with her boyfriend, Mark. She had high hopes that their relationship could survive the large distance between them, but I was a little more skeptical about it. They were both seventeen and going into their senior year of high school. I figured it was only a matter of time before some other guy at her new school caught her eye and that would be the demise of her and Mark.

      We left early the next morning, my mom leading the way in her car and Lane following behind in my dad’s SUV. I always loved riding with him. He would crank up the volume on the radio and we would sing whatever song came on at the top of our lungs. Sometimes he’d sing with a silly voice and change the lyrics around. He always made me laugh and he wasn’t afraid to act silly. He didn’t take himself too seriously and that was one of my favorite things about him...that and the fact that I knew he loved me more than any other father loved their son. He told me this all the time and I believed him. Not just because the words passed between his lips, but because he showed me--every single day.

      The drive from Massachusetts to Virginia only took us about eight hours. We stopped a few times for bathroom and food breaks, ran into some traffic, but on the whole it was a pretty good trip. Lane and I talked a lot, but we made sure to stay away from anything that would bring the topic of conversation around to our dad. Neither of us were ready to go there, especially not in the middle of a five-hundred-mile trip. We did discuss how nervous we both were about changing schools and making new friends, especially since our old ones were so great. One good thing about moving down there in June instead of waiting for closer to the start of the school year was that it might give us an opportunity to meet some kids and not show up on the first day without knowing a single soul. I’d be starting eighth grade and Lane would be a senior. I actually felt worse for her situation than my own because it was her last year of high school and a horrible time to have to relocate. Then again she had four more years with our father than I did and I would’ve gladly traded situations with her if it meant I could’ve had those extra days with him.

      The house that we would now be living in had been in my family for over one hundred years. I’d always thought the large white farmhouse with black shutters and a wraparound porch had a welcoming feel to it. There used to be a fully functioning farm here until my grandfather had a stroke when he was only in his early seventies. He and my gram sold off some of the surrounding acreage and lived off the money from that until he passed away when I was only a baby. My grandmother took his death hard, but she was from good old Irish stock and put up a tough front for everyone. I’m sure she cried herself to sleep many nights, though.

       I’d always loved coming to visit my grandmother, but that didn’t mean I wanted to live here. My heart was still back in Massachusetts at the cemetery where my father was laid to rest. I’ve always wished that my dad’s grave was here so I would be able to sit and talk to him when something’s bothering me. There’s a part of me that still resents my mother for moving us away from him and probably always will.

      The three of us settled into our new home and my grandmother went out of her way to make us feel welcome. Grandma Collins was one of my favorite people and I know I’d always been her pet. She and I had a special relationship and when we moved in with her, we grew even closer. I began to help her take care of the things around the house that were the “man chores,” and she would make me oatmeal chocolate chip cookies which were my favorite. She gave my mom the recipe, but they never taste as good as they did when my Grandma made them. Maybe knowing that she baked them special for me added to their deliciousness.

      That first summer in Virginia was lonely for me. I didn’t know any other kids my age and there weren’t any neighbors that lived close to us. I filled my days with riding my bike, helping my grandmother and reading good books.

      Lane got a job working at a local grocery store and was able to meet lots of kids her age. She began hanging around with one girl in particular and she invited her over for dinner one night. When Lane walked into the kitchen, I could see that someone was with her, but I didn’t catch a glimpse of who it was until my sister moved out of the way. I was seated at the table across the room from them when I first set eyes on Denley Thomas. Lane introduced her to us and when her eyes met mine for the first time my stomach lurched as if I was on a carnival ride and I broke out in a cold sweat. My reaction freaked me out and I had no idea what was going on in my body. All I knew was that this girl made me feel different than I’d ever felt before and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.