Chapter 41
41
CADENCE
I stalk into The Escape a week later, shoulders back, fists balled at my sides. I'm a warrior going into battle. The familiar scent of alcohol and sweat hits me as I push through the heavy doors. I give my eyes a second to adjust to the dim lighting, then head straight for the first friendly face I see
"Dean!" I call out, spotting the burly bouncer near the entrance. His face lights up as I approach, and I throw my arms around him in a tight hug. The solid warmth of his chest is comforting. That night was a blur, but I remember seeing blood on Dean's face, and I'm relieved to see only a few small stitches in his cheek.
"Good to see you, Cadence," he rumbles, his deep voice tinged with concern. "You sure you should be here?" The rest of the question hangs in the air between us, unasked. ' Does Maverick know you're here?'
I pull away, forcing a smile. "Just need to talk to Trixie. You seen her?"
Dean jerks his thumb towards the bar. "Office, I think."
With a nod of thanks, I weave through the tables, my heart pounding with each step. I find Trixie hunched over paperwork in her cramped office. She looks up, her eyes widening in surprise, followed immediately by worry.
"Cadence? What are you doing here?" She stands, hugging me then clasping her hands tightly at her waist. She looks stiff and brittle. "Did you come for your last check?"
I shake my head, squaring my shoulders. "No, Trix. I want back on the schedule."
Trixie's face falls, and she sinks back into her chair with a heavy sigh. "Oh, honey. You know I can't do that. Maverick would never?—"
"Screw what Maverick wants!" I snap, my voice rising. "This is my job, my choice! He shouldn't have fired me. Even if we weren't in a relationship, it's crazy. A boss firing his employee for protecting his business? Tell me you hear how crazy that sounds?"
Trixie flinches, and guilt floods through me. I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling in my chest.
"I'm sorry, Trix," I say softly. "I know you're in a tough spot. But please, can't you talk to him?" God knows, I've been trying, but a brick wall would listen better than Maverick Walker.
She shakes her head, her eyes filled with sympathy and fear. "I can't lose this job, Cadence. My husband... we need this. I'm so sorry."
The fight drains out of me, leaving me hollow. I nod stiffly and turn to leave, my vision blurring with unshed tears. "I get it. I'm sorry for asking Trixie."
The drive home is a blur of muffled sobs and screams. I almost don't recognize myself. This isn't like me. I'm calm, and level headed, and I take everyone exactly the way they are.
But I just can't with him.
I burst through the door of our apartment, startling Nan from her crossword puzzle.
"We have to go," I announce, pacing the living room like a caged animal. "This isn't working. He's trying to control me, take away my choices. We need to leave."
Nan watches me calmly, her weathered face etched with concern. "Sit down, child," she says softly. "Let's talk this through."
I collapse onto the couch, the words pouring out of me in a frantic rush. I tell her about the club, about Maverick's refusal to discuss my job, about the suffocating feeling of being trapped.
"He says he loves me," I choke out, "but how can he? He can't. Not if he's doing this."
Nan shakes her head, reaching out to take my trembling hands in hers. "Aw honey," she says sympathetically. "You're both scared, plain and simple."
"I'm not scared. Yeah, the first day I was a little shaky, but I'm fine now."
"That's not the kind of scared I'm talking about honey, and you know it. I'm talking about him, and the way you run from your feelings. I've watched you do it your whole life."
"You're expecting him to leave," Nan continues, her voice gentle but firm. "So you're trying to beat him to the punch. I've watched you do that over and over, but honey, till now, I didn't have a problem with it. Those other men, those relationships, they weren't great, and I was happy to see you send them packing. But that fear you're feeling now, that instinct to run? That's all thanks to your mom. Don't let her ruin this for you."
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I want to deny it, but deep down, I know she's right. The fear of abandonment has been my constant companion, a gift from my mother that I've never been able to shake. You'd think more than thirty years living with two incredibly loving, dependable people would be enough to heal that wound, but clearly not.
As I sit there, processing Nan's words, my mind starts to wander through the graveyard of my past relationships. There was Jake, the charming bartender I dated for six months before abruptly ending things when he suggested we move in together. Then came Alex, the kind-hearted teacher I ghosted after our third date, convinced he was too good to be true. And let's not forget about Eli, who gave me a ring. I didn't run screaming, but within a week, I was gone.
Each failed relationship flashes before my eyes, and suddenly, I see it - the pattern Nan's talking about. In every instance, I was the one who pulled away first, who made the problems bigger than they were, who ran at the first sign of forever. The realization is both liberating and terrifying. I've been sabotaging myself all along.
I slump back against the couch, feeling suddenly exhausted. "I'm not okay with what he's doing, though," I whisper. "He promised me that he would never let this get in the way of me working at the club. Then he fired me."
Nan squeezes my hand. "You're going to have to face this together, like grown-ups. But running away? That's not the answer, sweetheart. Not this time."
Groaning, I drop my head on the cushion, and put my hands over my eyes. "In my defense, I've been trying. I was hanging in there Nan. I tried to have conversations about it, and he just won't listen. I don't know what else there is to do."
"Threaten him."
My head pops back up, and I blink at her. "What?"
"Threaten him. You know you're not going to leave, but if you've tried to have a rational conversation, and he won't participate, then make him understand how important it is to him."
"You just told me not to walk away."
"Well yes, but that means don't run off into the fucking night, Cady. But if this relationship really is turning bad, if you're truly seeing things in him that worry you, then you should go."
"I'm so confused."
"For fuck's sake kid. Pin the man down, make him talk to you, make him understand that he doesn't get to dictate your life. If he won't fucking listen, then maybe it's time to go. I won three thousand dollars from Connie playing poker yesterday, so I can help with the damage deposit on our new place." She stands, pats me on the cheek, then grabs her purse off the counter. "I'm heading down to Connie's. We're having supper and watching Casablanca tonight. Love you honey."
"Wait. When did you learn how to play poker?" I shout after her. She doesn't answer, but her cackling laugh is cut off by the door closing. I'm going to have to keep an eye on those two. Seems like she and Connie have gotten tight, quick, which is great. But poker? Who the hell staked her?
I bet it was Nick.
"I am such a mess," I mutter to myself, staring at the ceiling. What am I going to do?
"I don't think you're a mess."
I scream, and fly off the couch, jumping over the coffee table, landing in a crouch. "Jesus fuck, Maverick. When did you get here? I almost peed my pants."
Maverick grins, and rubs his hand over his face. "Just now. Why was Nan laughing?"
"She won three grand from Connie playing poker. I didn't know she knew how to play poker."
His eyes widen. "She beat Connie? Fuck, she must be good. I've lost fifty grand to her in the last year."
"Fifty grand?" If he weren't a billionaire, maybe I'd be more worried about that number. But that's the equivalent of change in the couch cushions to him. "Is she good, or do you just suck?"
"Maybe a bit of both." He hesitates, then shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. It dies quickly though, and a guarded look comes over his face. "Trixie called me."
"And you came running home at three in the afternoon on a Tuesday?"
"Yeah."
"For what?"
Maverick, smart man that he is, doesn't miss the bite in my voice. "Why did you go by the club?"
"To get my job back, obviously."
A little muscle in his cheek twitches. It's kinda hot, actually, but I'm not going to let it distract me from this conversation. Who knows, maybe he's ready for it. And he's decided to do this the easy way, and have a conversation with me.
"You're not going back there. Ever."
Okay, so not the easy way. Lucky for him, I'm ready for hard. I slowly circle the table, and perch on the arm of the couch, feet on the cushions. He's standing at the end of the couch, fists clenched, watching me like a tiger in the wild, preparing to strike. Smart man.
"Was it when I agreed to move in here, do you think? Was that the moment?"
Confusion cracks the hard mask of his face. "The moment for what?"
"The moment you decided I wasn't a grown fucking woman, capable of making her own decisions? Was it then? Or maybe when I accepted that donation from you to hire more staff, you decided you'd paid for the right to make decisions for me. Maybe that was actually then."
Maverick's fists unclench, and he shifts uncomfortable, eyes darting across my face. "Cadence?—"
"No," I say quietly. "I will not play this game with you anymore. I've tried to talk to you about what happened at that club, and you've shut it down every time, so I need you to hear me when I say, I will not be in a relationship like this. I have successfully run my life for years. I built a not for profit myself. I worked every job I had to, from ice cream scooper to limo driver to pay my bills. I've experienced loss and grief. I've had my heart broken and I've broken hearts." I clasp my hands and lay them on my lap. "And if I knew then that agreeing to live here would make you look at me like I'm someone that needed saving, then I never would have come."
"You did need saving," he growls, running his hand through his hair. "You were living in the office at the fucking rescue."
"And?" I ask, raising a brow.
"What do you mean, 'and'? And nothing. That's bad enough."
I tilt my head, honestly confused. "Didn't you live in a single room with your brothers for years? They all talk about it you know, laughing about how tight it was, how you barely made ends meet. Why is it okay for all of you to do, but not Nan and I?" I hold up my hand, shutting down what I'm sure is his next objection.
"We were okay. Yeah, it wasn't the most comfortable circumstances, but we had food, and a little kitchen. We had a safe place to sleep and a good alarm system. It's more than a lot of people had. And I had a plan. A good one. Nan and I were a team, working together to find our footing. What about that sounds irresponsible to you? Really. I know it's not ideal, but what about it makes you think I'm a fool, or too stupid to make adult decisions?" A trickle of the hurt I'm trying to hide leaks into my voice, and he winces.
He takes a step closer, his knees pressing against the arm of the couch. "It's not about that, I promise you. I don't like that the two of you were living there, but I don't think you're a fool, or incapable."
"So you trust most of my decisions then? Just not the ones that involve working at your club. So I could go get a job at a different club, and you'd be fine with it?"
"No!" he nearly shouts, then bends over, gripping the arm of the couch. "Do we have to do this?" he asks tiredly. "Can't it be enough that I'm asking you to stop working there."
"But you didn't ask me, Mav. You dictated. You told me. You ordered me. Like I'm some puppy that needs training, instead of a grown woman with a little something between her ears. And I'm not okay with that." I stand on the couch, then step down to the floor and walk to him, stopping next to him. "I will never be okay with that."
Exhaling, I press my hand to his cheek. "Thank you for everything you've done for us." Kissing his cheek, I let my hand drop, and briefly rest my cheek against his shoulder. "I need a few hours to gather my things. Nan's going to stay with Connie for a few days, while I find us a place to live." I step away, praying that Nan's right. That I haven't just blown everything up.
I make it three steps before his arms wrap tightly around me, caging me in, my back against his chest. "You are not leaving."
"I'm not? What's your plan big man? You gonna stand here for the rest of your life, keeping me here?"
"Cadence," he groans. "Please baby, I love you. There's no reason for you to leave."
My chin drops to my chest, a wave of exhaustion, and sadness washing over me. "I think I just explained to you all the reasons why I should leave. And you still weren't listening." The sadness turns to anger, and my ears turn off. It's immature maybe, but I break out of his hold.
Or more accurately, I break out of his hold for a second, then he has me up against the door, body pressed against me knee to chest. The man is strong. And smart. It's harder to break out of this hold. Not impossible, but I would have to do some damage. "I'm pissed at you."
"I know. And I know you could break this hold baby. I know you could put me on the ground. But I just need you to listen to me. Please."
"Do you think there's anything you could say that would make any of this better?"
"My mom was killed in a shooting at the strip club she worked at when I was little. I was there. I watched it all."