11. Cade
I press my fingers into my temples, willing the thudding in my skull to abate. The x-rays and CT-scans I’d had in the hospital showed no damage to my skull or my brain, but that hasn’t stopped the headaches.
I’m relieved, but it also troubles me. If there’s nothing physically wrong with me, why was I unconscious for so long, and why am I still in pain now?
Is it possible I’d been unconscious out of choice?
What if I’d simply not wanted to face up to what was happening and took the coward’s way out instead?
The idea makes me want to tear my own brain from my skull.
What if there was something I could have done to prevent what happened to Laney, and instead I’d remained buried inside my own body?
I’ll never forgive myself.
I haven’t told any of the others about the continuing headaches, or the ringing in my ears, or how, sometimes, my vision grows blurry at the edges.
What would be the point? The doctors have already said I’m fine, so all it will do is make them worry.
I’m the last person I want them fretting over.
I don’t deserve for them to waste a single thought over me.
I’m telling myself the headaches will fade over time.
It’s probably some kind of stress reaction.
The drinking doesn’t help either, at least not the day after, though initially a few drinks make me feel like I’m halfway normal again.
Halfway back to being the Cade I was before the crash—the Cade who didn’t give a fuck about women except for them to fill a need.
Now I have Laney living rent free in my head, and I can’t evict her, no matter what I do.
And it’s not even about the sex, though I do miss fucking her, and my body craves to be inside her.
I’d be happy just to be near her, to have her close.
She’s the only thing that quiets the thumping in my head and the whirlwind of fury in my chest.
But she doesn’t want me. She thinks I’m going to hurt her, and maybe she’s right. Perhaps it’s better if I do stay away, but fuck, it’s hard. Every cell in my body wants to go to her.
I walk into the living room to find Darius on the sofa, his violin between his knees. He looks as though he might have been practicing, but I haven’t heard him play a note.
“You’re going to play, then?” I ask my brother.
Reed has already set up Darius’s big return performance.
“Sure. It’s what I do. What’s the problem?”
“It just feels too soon.”
I’m annoyed with our father for setting the show up for Dax. It’s his job to protect Darius, and he should know this isn’t right. Darius is in no way ready.
But Darius shrugs as though it’s no big deal. “What’s the point in waiting?”
“So you can get some fucking practice in?” I suggest, unable to hide the sarcastic note to my voice.
“I don’t need practice. I’ve been playing the violin practically my whole life.”
Dax acts cocky, but I know it’s just an act. It’s his way of building himself up against the world. I know him well enough to know that nothing I say is going to make the slightest bit of difference. Once he’s made up his mind, that’s it.
I shake my head. “This is bullshit. I’m going out.”
I half expect him to ask me where I’m going, but he remains silent, his head bowed over the as yet un-played violin. The instrument is brand new, and I can’t believe he’s considering stepping out in front of an entire audience of people without putting in some kind of practice first.
Even worse is that our father is letting him.
I briefly consider going to Laney and telling her of my concerns, but Darius would fucking kill me. He’d probably think I was telling tales on him, like when we were kids. Maybe he’d be right.
Deep down, I know if I went to Laney, it wouldn’t really have anything to do with Dax. I’d just be using it as an excuse to see her.
I’m desperate to fucking see her.
She’s like a drug, and my body is craving a hit.
Since I can’t have her, I’ll find something else instead. Booze is easy to come by, and now I have plenty of money to buy it. I don’t give a shit about the paparazzi or any of that crap. They can photograph me if they want to. I’m not hiding inside this goddamned house.
Without saying another word to either my brother or father, I slam out of the door and head to the nearest bar.