15. Caden
Caden
My jaw remains clenched like it’s welded shut for the duration of the drive from my parents’ house back to my own.
The last place I wanted to be tonight was my childhood home. I agreed to it only because my mom practically begged me to have dinner with her and my father.
With my index finger, I rub the side of my face, trying to loosen my jaw.
Only my father has the ability to make me feel this way.
I know better than to add fuel to his fire, but two hours of his presence is enough to make me seethe.
There are knots in my back I didn’t even know could exist from tonight.
The dinner replays in my head as I pull onto the dark stillness of my street.
Heard you made Wilmington’s top ten this year, my mom had announced, much to my chagrin, as I walked through her front door. I didn’t tell her—hell I hadn’t even told Fia yet—but my mom has connections in every circle of this city.
Does that come with a cash reward or just a cheap plaque for the wall? my father sneered, a condescending pull of his lips as he sipped liquor from a crystal glass. Come on, Caden, lighten up.
I didn’t smile, but when my mom handed me a similar glass, I tossed the liquor back, letting it burn my throat.
I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of a fight. My mom worries our conflicts will send my father to the hospital one day, so I bite my tongue for her.
He’s always been tough on me, but I’m wise enough to realize it’s not out of love.
It’s self-preservation.
He didn’t talk to me for nearly a year when I quit his business—after he had an affair with a high-profile client and paid hush money to sweep it under the rug.
Opening Good Grinds nearly gave him a coronary.
The son of Sterling Brooks doing something as frilly as opening a coffee shop? Fucking blasphemy.
I park beside Fia’s car. I don’t remember ever being home on a Friday night before 9:00 PM at her age, but then again, I didn’t have a child.
The air is balmy, and as I get out of the car, I crack my neck.
“Fuck,” I groan, shaking my limbs out, desperate to rid my body of the negative energy. All I can think about is putting on my swimsuit, jumping straight into the pool, and polishing the day off with a nightcap on the sofa. Phone silenced, world turned the fuck off.
Except when I enter the pool area, I hear water splashing.
Fia’s floating faceup, fluttering her feet. Her lavender bikini is bright against the illuminated blue water, and I curse under my breath.
“I thought you didn’t swim in pools,” I call out.
Fia splashes spastically at my voice, finding her footing and spinning to look at me, hand clutched to her heaving ample chest.
Water drips down her neck, her face dewy and eyes wide.
“Holy shit, you startled me! I didn’t know you were here.” She gasps for air.
“Sorry,” I bite out, then calm myself with a sigh. “I just got home.”
She nods slowly, but neither of us moves.
“You plan to be out here much longer?” I ask, shoving my hands in my pockets. Her face falls a bit. “I was going to take a swim, but—”
Getting into the water with her feels like it’s wading into way more than friend territory. And I wanted to be alone tonight. At least I thought I did until I saw her . . . Perhaps her company would aid in releasing my mind from the unpleasant evening I’ve had looping in my subconscious.
But Fia shakes her head, lips in a hard, straight line. She moves through the shallow end to the steps. Her cheeks shine with a rosy hue.
“Nope, I’m done,” she replies, curtly. With every step she takes, water rolls down her skin, down the valleys of her chest. She turns her back to me, the curves of ass on full display.
Fia snatches her towel, wrapping it around her wet body, and I swallow hard, glancing at my feet, realizing what a freaking jerk I came off as.
“You sure?” I question, lowering my tone, but Fia doesn’t even look at me. “The pool’s big. We can both swim,” I add.
“I’m good.” She dismisses the idea with a flick of the hand. “It’s late. G’night.”
Before I can apologize, she grabs the baby monitor, and the guesthouse door opens and closes.
I run my palms over my face.
Nice going, Caden.