Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CADENCE
The next morning, I wake early. Wondering firstly why my bed is so hard, secondly why the room is pitch black.
I try to roll over and bump against the wardrobe door. Awareness floods me as I sit up, hugging my knees to my chest. Last night, with Drake’s words ringing in my ears and sleep far away, I felt too exposed to lie in bed, even under the covers. Instead, I curled up in my wardrobe, using my body weight to barricade the door.
Now, my thoughts thump dully in my head.
Drake steals into my room at night even with the measures I’ve taken to stop him.
I grab my phone, eyes watering at the surge of light. Four thirteen. In the morning. I’m far more used to seeing that hour from the other side, when I can’t sleep.
The room is stuffy when I open the wardrobe door despite the central air-conditioning, and I quickly change into jeans and shirt to go downstairs, needing something to rid my head of its morning fuzz.
When I walk into the kitchen, a shadow in the corner moves and I jump, heart hammering.
“Cadence?” My mother flicks on the bench lights. “What’re you doing up at this hour?”
“Getting such a scare, a decade just got wiped off my lifespan.”
She giggles, wrinkling her nose in apology, then shuffles along the counter, pushing something behind her.
It’s her pill organiser.
“Did you and Arnold have a nice date?”
“Nice?” She gives a soft snort, pulling the cord on her robe tighter. “That isn’t the word for it. Exciting. Luxurious.” With her head tilted to the side, a mischievous smile plays across her lips. “Almost engaging.”
“Almost?”
Her hands clench as she gives an excited wriggle. “He talked about commitment and planning and how he’d given up hope of ever finding the perfect someone but now thinks he might have given up too soon.”
I reach out for her, grabbing her hands and bouncing on my toes. “And…?”
“Nothing yet. He talked about Drake maybe joining his firm and taking away some of his workload.”
“Really?”
She shrugs. “He wants to mentor him to take over the business and start that process sooner rather than later. Apparently, he has no plans for continuing his education, so it’s the perfect opportunity.”
I lean against the bench, thinking how nice it would be to attend Ashcroft without looking over my shoulder or being threatened with forfeits. Far less confusing.
A wriggle of disappointment also makes itself known, but I stifle it. I haven’t got around to checking the counselling services on offer at school, but I should make it a priority.
Get my head straight before I let something happen that I’ll later regret.
“What are your plans after school?” Mum brushes strands of hair away from my face, tucking them behind my ear. “Should I ask him if there’s a place for you in his office?”
I shake my head. The idea of Drake and me working in the same jobsite is just asking for trouble. “I thought about going overseas on a working holiday. See the UK and Europe while I figure out what I like to do.”
Her eyes light up at the idea. “Now, that’s a good plan.” She leans forward. “If things don’t work out with Arnold, I might come with you.”
She turns back to the bench, giving the pill organiser a doubtful stare. “Does this look right to you?”
I see immediately they’re wrong and tip the medication out, pulling them into separate piles to reallocate them; the extra anti-psychotics going back into their bottles while I add the skipped mood stabiliser to each day.
When I’m finished, her lips tremble in a weak smile. “No wonder my head’s so fuzzy.”
“You know you can always ask me or Arnold for help.”
Although, errors aside, it’s a joy to see her take control of her meds, especially since the extracurriculars are now off the menu. Yet another sign things are on the right path.
Mum nods, putting the organiser and pill bottles back in the cupboard, yawning as she does so. “I’ll take that as a sign I need to go back to bed.” She pulls me into a hug. “See you again at a proper time in the morning.”
I put the coffee machine on once she’s gone, quickly downing the first cup and immediately pouring a second that I take through to the lounge, curling onto one of the comfy seats and staring into space, not even thinking.
A series of beeps makes my heart seize, then I hear the soft pad of Drake’s footsteps on the outside patio. Curious why he’d be awake at this hour, I pop my head through the doorway and see the back door wide open, jammed with a wedge to stop it accidentally swinging closed.
When I tiptoe nearer, I’m just in time to see Drake heading down to the beach.
I count off the seconds, waiting two minutes before I venture outside, giving a sigh of relief as the cool salt breeze off the ocean blows through my hair. At the top of the path, I lean against the railings, my eyes easily adjusting to the moonlight, finding Drake’s figure a second before he wades into the sea.
He swims with effortless grace to the platform, levering himself onto the wide boards. He sits with his arms supporting his weight behind him, head tilted back to expose the long length of his throat.
Part of me wants to head down to the beach and swim out to join him.
The rest of me wants to crawl back into the safety of the wardrobe.
Then he yells, a wordless roar that grows and grows until he’s bellowing at the sky, ending on a choked sob. He swivels to punch into the platform until his knuckles must be bruised and bleeding.
The sight guts me.
I stagger backwards on shaking legs, two steps, three steps, until I’m out of sight, heart thumping. An echo of the same urge roars inside me, wanting to rail at the universe for all the ways it has failed me, failed my mother. For all the little things that pile on each other until the world becomes too monumentally unfair to accept without screaming into the void.
But I can’t help Drake with his pain, his grief. I wouldn’t even know where to start.
Another roar fills the harbour before I hear the splash of him entering the water. I scurry back inside, tiptoeing up the stairs as quickly as I can, blockading the door and pulling the duvet over my head. Not giving a shit that the room’s still stuffy.
You made me hate the only girl I ever wanted.
Last night, the second part of that sentence rang far louder. Now it’s clear I should pay more attention to the first.
Drake has problems and years of supporting my mother gives me insight of how much work those mental health issues involve.
I don’t want it in a partner. Especially not at my age.
With the caffeine rushing through my system, I hold my knees, close my eyes, and wait for the sun to chase away the darkness with its unwavering light.
DRAKE
Both Arnold and Raelene seem inappropriately happy when I wander into the kitchen in search of lunch.
“There are some cold cuts in the fridge,” my father says, cutting into a loaf of freshly baked bread and cursing as it squashes in his grip.
“I’ll do it,” I offer, getting a far larger serrated knife from the drawer just as Cadence walks in.
She does a double take, half turning like she wants to walk out again, then grabs a seat at the table. As I bring the sliced bread to the table, I stand between her and Raelene, my hip nudging her shoulder. When I turn to take my seat, my fingers brush against the back of her neck.
Arnold clears his throat, nose buried in his phone. “Did you enjoy the movie?”
Cadence launches into a long spiel about character arcs and engaging performances which sounds suspiciously like a review I read last week. I hide my smile, wondering if she’d be half so shy if Raelene wasn’t seated right beside her.
“There was a trailer for one you might like,” Cadence tells her mother, blushing when I raise my eyebrow. “About a carer who gets superhuman powers, but not one of the franchise things. It’s by the guy who did the boxing road trip one that you liked.”
“You enjoyed that one, too, didn’t you?” I ask my father while my foot bumps Cadence’s under the table. “We could go as a family.”
Another couple of hours in the dark, sitting side by side, hiding our interactions from those seated near us. I rub the back of my neck as it prickles, the hairs standing on end. The self-inflicted bruises on my knuckles throb in time with my quickening pulse.
Giving in to temptation is underrated. My senses feel sharper, my brain alert now I’ve admitted the truth to myself.
I want her.
Not to torture or to stop anyone else from laying claim to her, but because she’s the girl I want and have always wanted, even when I convinced myself otherwise.
There are a multitude of details still to sort, the massive roadblock about the medication top of that list, but I feel lighter. Calmer.
Even the near-constant ache in my head falls away.
If this is what coming in my jeans can do to clear my head, I can’t wait until tomorrow when I have her in my car again. Certain that she feels this way, too; unable to do anything but give in to me.
Maybe I’ll just keep driving. Steal her somewhere far away. I’m sure someone in my network must have a bach or a crib or just a shed we can use to hide from the world for a week while we discover how to be together properly.
Somewhere I can keep her happy until she forgets there are other men in the world. My smile broadens until it’s practically beatific.
I lean back in my chair and glance outside.
Hudson walks into the driveway, heading for the entrance.
Before anyone else can react, I stride to the foyer, anger striking as I wrench open the door.
“You can fuck right off,” I say in greeting. “We had enough of your appalling behaviour last night.”
He acts like I didn’t say a word, staring behind me rather than meeting my eye. “Is Cadence around?”
At her name, she walks to the connecting door, nodding to Hudson.
“Hey.” As she steps closer, a worried frown creases her forehead. “What’re you doing here?”
He makes a gesture like he expects me to move aside. I give a low growl as I stay put, crossing my arms, popping my biceps to make the message crystal clear.
“Can I speak to Cadence alone?”
“No.” I step forward until he retreats, forcing a more comfortable distance between them. “You screamed your head off at her last night, so you can say what you want to say while I stand right here.”
“Okay, I—”
He swivels on his foot to look behind him, then sighs.
“Cadence, I’m sorry for yelling at you last night.” His gaze shifts to me. “For what it’s worth, I apologise for accusing you, too. It seemed to fit, but Mum contacted the mall to get their CCTV, and the footage shows—”
“Your mum?” I bark out a laugh. “Why is your mum hassling the mall for their security footage?”
“She’s a criminal defence lawyer,” Hudson says with the tone of someone who thinks everyone should already know this information. “But I shouldn’t have blamed you without evidence.”
“Who was on it?”
Cadence tugs my arm. “I’ll take it from here,” she says, moving past me. “If I need help, I’ll yell.”
I move to the side window to monitor them, but Cadence sees me watching, escorting him out of the driveway until they’re sheltered behind the privacy bushes.
My stomach pulls tighter with each second they talk, my hope curdling.
“What else did he want?” I ask the moment she returns, not bothering to hide my irritation.
She shrugs. “He invited me to a rugby game at school on Wednesday night. He’s playing but he’ll reserve a good seat for me in the stands.”
My head gives a painful thump. “You’re not going.”
“Of course I’m going. It sounds like fun. And he’s got a loaner car, so he can still give me lifts to and from school in case you were worried.”
“He tore strips off you last night, but you’re suddenly back to being friends?”
She has her hand on the staircase railing, tipping her nose in the air. “Why would I stop being friends with him? It’s understandable he was upset, and he explained. He apologised .” Her gaze sharpens as she studies my face. Last night, we felt close, but now she’s a million miles away. “Have you ever apologised for anything? Maybe something involving bedrooms or lighters for instance.”
I snort as my head splits open, pain running in a zigzag across my skull. “Maybe I’ll save mine until you apologise for pushing drugs onto your vulnerable friends.”
Cadence shakes her head.
“And you’re wondering why I’m still getting a lift from our neighbour?” She takes a step towards me. “If I did owe an apology, it would be to Harriet, not to you.”
Her voice cracks with emotion.
“It never had anything to do with you.”
Before I can respond, she turns and runs up the stairs.