Chapter 42
42
MAVERICK
C adence's body freezes, and she breathes out a "what?".
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the flood of memories I'm about to unleash. Cadence's body is rigid, her eyes wide with shock.
"The dressing room," I begin, my voice low and unsteady. "That's where my earliest memories are. I'd play under the makeup tables while Mom and the other girls got ready for their shifts." I step back, releasing her wrists, giving her the space to move away from me if she wants to. I fucking love being up against her, but the idea of holding her against her will makes my stomach churn.
"She'd give me paper and crayons. I'd draw or nap – typical little kid stuff. It wasn't ideal, but I was safe, and she could bring home a paycheck."
Cadence's hand finds mine, squeezing gently. I look into her eyes, seeing compassion there.
"The club was a dump in a rough part of town. Run by some real scumbags. But the manager had a soft spot for kids, especially me. He liked my mom a lot. I think she..." I swallow hard. "I think she did extra favors to keep me there."
Cadence makes a low sound, but she doesn't interrupt.
"One night, during Mom's set, I heard popping noises from the front. Like fireworks, but..." I shake my head, the sound ringing through my ears as clear as they were over thirty years ago. "Deep down, I knew. It was a sound I'd heard in the neighborhood before. Gunshots."
Cadence's breath catches. "Oh, Mav..."
"I snuck out front," I continue, my voice barely above a whisper. "There was a man yelling, waving a gun around. Other guys had weapons out too. They were in a big circle, the guns pointing in every direction. And there was Mom, frozen center stage."
I close my eyes, the scene playing out vividly in my mind. "It happened so fast. The shouting got louder, and then... the bullets started flying."
My voice breaks. Cadence steps into me, her arms wrapping around me.
"I saw it, Cady. I saw when the first bullet hit her. And the second. I watched her fall."
Cadence's hand cradles the back of my head as I bury my face in her shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Maverick," she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. "I had no idea."
"I ran to her, as fast as I could. I sat with her, I held her hand. And I cried." My chest aches all over again. Cadence's cheek is pressed right against the spot on my chest that my mom got shot. "I don't know how she hung on as long as she did. But she made it to the hospital. There were so many people working on her, trying to save her. But it was too bad. She died in the emergency room."
I pull back, meeting her tear-filled gaze. "That's why I can't... I can't bear the thought of you in danger. Especially not in my club. I know it's different. I tried to make it different, safer, but..." Losing her in any way would do me in, but having her shot, in my club? I wouldn't survive that. The guilt would be too big.
Cadence cups my face in her hands. "I understand now," she says softly. "I understand." Taking my hand, she tugs me to the couch, and pulls me down next to her. I automatically hug her against my chest, and lay us down.
The weight of her feels good. Way better than Jonas's weighted blanket. He let me try it one time, and I understood why he liked it so much. It's comforting.
But it's nowhere near the comfort Cadence brings me, just laying against my chest, rubbing slow circles on my ribs.
"How old were you?" she asks quietly.
"Eight."
"God, honey. So little."
"A few years older than Mia. It's funny, at the time, I thought I was so grown. I used to hold my mom's hand, and walk her to and from the bus, keeping watch. She always called me mi hombrecito. Her little man. And I took that responsibility seriously. Our neighborhood was dangerous, and I knew it."
"Please tell me that you understand you were just a kid. Tell me you don't blame yourself for anything that happened."
"I don't anymore. I took it on at first. I would imagine all these scenarios, play them over and over in my head. Ways that I would have killed the bad guys, or rescued my mom."
"When did you finally understand that it wasn't your fault?"
"That was Ransom. He somehow knew what happened to all of us. I sometimes wonder if he broke into the filing cabinets when we were at that group home. Either way, he was always watchful. And when any of us started to self-destruct, he would take us out and talk. And talk. And talk. And somehow, he always made it better."
Cadence lifts her head. "Talking helps, huh," she says, raising an eyebrow at me.
I run my thumb over her brows, smoothing out the little furrow that's formed there. "You're right," I admit, my voice low. "I should have talked to you. I wanted to, I really did."
Cadence shifts slightly, getting more comfortable against me. She drops her chin against my pec and looks up at me with soft eyes. She is so fucking accepting. I know if I could have just told her what was going on in my head a week ago, we would have been fine. But I just couldn't do it, no matter how hard I tried.
"I was just... I got so lost in those memories," I continue, struggling to find the right words. "And then the fear for you... it was like this tidal wave that just swept everything else away."
I take a deep breath, feeling the rise and fall of Cadence's chest against mine. "I tried, you know? I'd open my mouth to explain, but the words... they just wouldn't come. It was like they were stuck somewhere between my brain and my tongue."
Cadence's hand finds mine, her fingers intertwining with my own. The simple gesture gives me hope that I didn't destroy everything.
"Every time I thought about telling you, I'd see my mom on that stage again. I'd hear those gunshots. And then suddenly, it wasn't my mom I was seeing anymore. It was you."
I swallow hard, fighting back the lump in my throat. "The idea of losing you like that... it paralyzed me. I couldn't think straight, let alone talk about it."
"We have to be able to talk to each other. I understand this is a big one. Everything makes so much more sense now. But moving forward, I need to know that you won't make unilateral decisions like this again. We have to be a team if we want this to stay good."
"You'll stay?"
"Yeah, I will. I have to admit though, it was a close one. Your trauma butted up against mine, and we almost blew everything up today."
"Your trauma?"
"I've got a bit of a self fulfilling abandonment thing going on. Nan's got me all figured out, and set me straight. I'm not sure how I didn't realize it myself, but I guess it doesn't matter, anyway."
It matters to me. "Spell it out for me. What self fulfilling abandonment thing?"
She groans and drops her cheek to my chest. "After I left the club, I roared in here ready to pack up and leave. Nan told me that I can't always blow things out of proportion."
"I like your Nan."
"Oh yeah? She also told me to threaten to leave, and be fully prepared to, if you don't smarten up."
"God, she's tough."
"Yeah she is."
"But you're not going anywhere now, right?"
She pushes up, sitting on knees. "Do you promise to talk to me. And have a logical discussion about things."
I want to say yes, so badly. But I'm realizing that would get me in bigger trouble. "I'm not sure I'm able to be logical about you working at the club. I'd like to be, but I'm not there right this minute."
I sit up, sliding my arm between her hips and the back of the couch until I'm cupping her hip. "Is working at the club that important to you?" I don't know what I'm going to do if she says yes. Probably lock the doors, and make sure the only people who ever go there have a full background check. And cameras, lots of cameras. And extra security. Maybe then I could breathe while she's on shift.
She purses her lips and frowns. "When we were saving for a place, it was really important. But…I'm not sure we should keep staying here. When Nan and I first moved in here, the plan was to save up, then get our own place. Technically, we have enough to do that now."
"Wait. Back up. You're still leaving?"
"Well, I thought we would."
"You're not happy here?"
"It's not that. We're really happy here, but you and I are together now. We've lived together for our entire relationship. We've only officially been together for like…six weeks? Oh my god. I'm living with my boyfriend of six weeks. That's insane."
"Is it, though? We're good. Better than good. We work, Cady. I don't see any reason to change that."
"But isn't it weird? Won't your family wonder about it?"
"Seriously? Have you met my family? It's like you don't even know us. Jonas asked Janey to marry him, so she'd have time to get to know him. This is slow compared to that."
She snickers and shakes her head. "You have a point. You guys don't do anything the normal way."
"Is that going to be a problem?"
"No, I don't think it is. If you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly normal either. But me and Nan…we're a package deal."
"I know that, Cadence. We love her, and honestly, if you tried to move out, I'm pretty sure some of my brothers would just refuse to let you take her. They're pretty attached."
"She's pretty attached too. And I don't want to move her. But she's in her seventies, and she beat cancer once. She's healthy. But she won't always be."
My gut clenches at the idea of Nan dying. Yeah, it’ll happen one day. But that day will be really fucking far in the future if I have anything to say about it.
"She'll have the best care in the world Cadence. If anything can be done, it will be. But when it's her time, we'll all be in that room with her. Whenever that might be. You will never be alone to deal with it again. Never."
"Six weeks," she mumbles under her breath. "God."
Laughing, I tug her back over me. "It's okay. You can take a little time to adjust. In the meantime, I'm just going to do a little of this." I press my lips to her throat, then give her a little nip. "You let me know when you're done processing."
Her dazed eyes meet mine. "Huh?"
Well alright then. I think I've figured out how to handle 'conversations' with her moving forward. I'll tuck this little tidbit in my back pocket and use it whenever things go sideways. Is that manipulative? Fuck yeah. But considering the arsenal she has at her disposal, I'm not too upset about it.
She whips out one of those weapons, sliding her hand down my chest to fiddle with my belt buckle. She says something, but I'm too focused on her nimble fingers undoing the buckle to register.
"Huh?" I mutter, tugging her mouth to mine. I think we're done talking.
For now.