Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Nori
It happened again.
Except this time it was the big mirror in the lobby. I told myself not to look, but my curiosity got the best of me. And sure enough, in the reflection, I saw my arm trailing behind me, my smaller hand clasped in Cash’s giant man paw.
It was just a quick glance, but enough for me to see our fingers entwined. And the weirdest part? I could actually feel the heat of his palm pressed against mine. The roughness. The strength. Just like in the bathroom mirror, I swear we were actually touching.
Even though we weren’t.
I shot a glance over my shoulder to confirm Cash wasn’t even all that close to me. And there was more than a yard of space between us. Still, I was feeling him. Not normal. So not normal. Stars swam before my eyes, and the darkness closed in on me.
I’ve never been a fainter before.
I’ve also never been a hallucinator.
And yet.
Cash must’ve seen the blood drain from my face, because he caught me as I started to go down. I didn’t fully black out, but I was so woozy, he scooped me up in his arms like a limp rag doll. Now he’s carrying me up the stairs.
And I’m totally letting him.
My arms are draped around his shoulders, one cheek pressed to the jut of his collarbone. At this point, I’m too soaked to be anything but cold. Cash is just as drenched. But somehow, I feel warm with him. Protected. Safe in his arms. For the record, this is a total out-of-body experience. Like, literally. My body’s floating above the ground, being cradled in Cash Briggs’s arms. And the more my brain reminds me I can’t have this man, the more my heart tempts me to crave him. Not to mention all the mirrors. I need to get ahold of myself.
Now.
“I can walk,” I blurt as we reach the second-floor landing. “You don’t have to carry me anymore.”
“I don’t mind,” Cash grunts, launching us up the second flight of stairs. “I don’t want you passing out and falling down these steps.”
“I won’t pass out.”
“You almost did, ” he says. “Two minutes ago."
The man has a point. And anyway, my original offer to walk was half-hearted at best. So I snuggle more deeply into his arms. He adjusts his hold, transporting me like I’m a bride and he’s my groom, about to cross the threshold. When we reach the third floor, Cash covers the short bit of hallway quickly and sets me down on my smiley face welcome mat. He’s out of breath now.
Duh.
Still, as I find my footing, he puts out a steadying hand, his palm covering my shoulder. He’s so gentle, sparks of something warm and safe settle inside me. Then the heat begins to spread. This is not me getting ahold of myself .
“You want me to come in with you?” he asks. The question is a throaty rasp.
Yes .
“No,” I announce a little too loudly. “Thanks. But I’m fine now.” To prove this is true—to both of us—I rummage through the contents of my purse, pushing aside my phone, two lipsticks, half a pack of gum, a small brush, one claw clip, extra hair ties, my compact, and some crumpled receipts.
I even have a granola bar in there. Just in case.
What I don’t find is the familiar jingle of keys to the building, my apartment, and the shop.
“My keys.” I groan. “They aren’t in here.” I flash back to my purse dropping on the ground when I pulled away from Warren. I can practically hear the echo of the stuff clattering out onto the concrete. When Cash shoved everything back in my bag afterward, he must’ve missed the keys. “They’re probably still on the pool deck. Did you see them?”
He shakes his head. “I thought I got everything, but it was pretty dark out there.” He tips his chin. “Maybe they fell under the lounge chair. I’m sorry.”
A shiver runs up my spine. “Not your fault.”
“What about your roommate? Can Hayden let you in?”
“She’s at her parents’ house until tomorrow. They’re finalizing wedding plans.”
“She’s getting married?”
“In two weeks.” I try to smile at this bit of happiness, but the result probably looks more like a wince. When my teeth begin to chatter, Cash’s face turns grim.
“You’re freezing.” His voice is gruff.
“You’re not wrong.” I try calling Keeley, but the phone goes straight voicemail. Contacting East makes no sense. Sure, he’s still got a key to the apartment, but he’s an hour and a half away and he would totally freak out. “I’ll just go to the shop,” I mumble. “Violet will let me stay with her. I can’t bike there right now, but I can get a ride share, and?—”
“Absolutely not.” His eyes flash.
“Are you saying you’ll drive me?”
He meets my gaze. “I’m saying we need to get you warm. Now.” He offers me his arm—a noticeable shift from Warren’s ham-handed grip—and gently steers me down the hallway. We’re going to his place, I realize. Alone. But I’m too drained, emotionally and physically, to even pretend to object. And the truth is, I feel totally safe with him.
Plus I kind of want to see his apartment.
He enters first, leaving the door open so I can follow him in. I’m guessing he wants me to feel safe. Not cornered. I stand in the entryway while he flips a few switches, and the whole place floods with light.
“Make yourself at home,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”
He crosses the room, shuts the curtains, and disappears into his bedroom. While he’s gone, I take a speedy inventory of the space. Black leather sofa and matching armchairs. Glass coffee table. Dark wood dining set. Stainless steel appliances. The rest of the kitchen is all subway tile and white granite. Everything is clean and streamlined.
Cash Briggs is a man without clutter in his life.
Unless you count the emotional clutter I’m bringing right now.
He quickly returns with a pair of large sweat pants and an enormous hoodie. “These will be too big on you,” he says, looking chagrined. “But at least they’re dry.” He hands the clothes over, and the sweet scent of fabric softener rises between us. “You can change in there.” He nods toward the bathroom. His apartment is the one-bed model, and the only bathroom has two entrances: one from his room and one off the living area. “You can shower, if you want,” he adds. “Whatever makes you more comfortable. ”
“Thanks.” I bob my head. “So much.”
“I’ll run down and find your keys,” he tells me, moving past me to the door. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure this out. I promise.”
I believe you .
He shuts the door behind him with a soft click, and I’m alone in Cash Briggs’s apartment.
I slowly make my way to the closest mirror, gleaming on the wall across from the dining table. I’m almost hoping I’ll see him in the reflection. But when I lift my gaze to the glass, it’s just me. Pale skin. Hollow eyes above bruise-like circles. Drenched hair.
Yikes.
Padding to the bathroom, I quickly strip off my sweater, then peel out of my skirt, blouse, bra, and underwear. That’s a good first step, but I don’t think my brain can handle being in Cash Briggs’s shower. I’ve been seeing things that don’t exist in so many other mirrors in the building.
My imagination’s already on overdrive. The scent of Cash’s body wash just might make me lose what’s left of my mind.
So after slinging my wet clothes over the towel rack, I slip on Cash’s hoodie and sweats. His clothes swallow more than half my body. Even with the waistband rolled three times and the drawstring cinched tight, the cuffs of the sweats still drag on the floor. But the fabric is cottony and soft against my skin, and I’m warm and dry.
That’s what matters.
Cash was in such a hurry to find my keys, he didn’t bother to change. So I move to the kitchen and put a kettle of water on the stove. At least when he gets back from the courtyard, he can warm up with a cup of hot tea. Or whatever it is he keeps in his cupboards that requires a kettle.
For a moment, I’m tempted to peek in his pantry, but I’m afraid once I start snooping, I won’t be able to stop. Then I’ll probably end up in his bedroom, rolling on his sheets and sniffing his pillows. Not a good idea.
Plucking my phone from my purse, I pad into the living room and drop onto the sofa to wait for Cash. First things first, though—I text Jemma.
Me
Hey, Jemma. I’m going to call you tomorrow, and I’ll fill out the whole post-date questionnaire later, but I wanted to let you know Warren Snuze is wrong for Swipe Rite. You should probably check in with his other matches to see how their dates went. Either way, he turned out to be a huge frog for me. Hopefully all princes from now on. Please?
I’m not expecting a response at this hour of the night, and anyway, Cash comes through the door, so I set down my phone. His jaw is tense, and his hands are empty. This can only mean one thing.
“No keys?”
He gives a terse jerk of his head. “I have no idea where they could’ve gone. This is all just so …” His voice trails off.
“Weird?”
“I was going to say frustrating, but yeah. Weird too. It’s like your keys just got up and walked away.”
“Maybe they fell out before we got to the courtyard,” I suggest.
“Could they be at Sir Axe-A-Lot? Or in Warren Snuze’s car?”
“You mean his minivan .”
“The guy drives a minivan?”
“Indeed he does.” I let out a sharp guffaw. “But I had to use my keys to get in the building. That’s the last time I remember seeing them.” I grimace. “So I guess we need to find Steve.”
Steve is our new building manager. He’s super-friendly, and fond of sweater vests. He’s usually found in the parlor if he’s not plunging toilets or fixing sinks.
“I already looked for him.” Cash draws his brows together again. “But it’s pretty late. I didn’t expect to find him. So I went up to Archer’s place to see if I could borrow his spare key, but he wasn’t there either.”
“We used to keep a key under the mat, but my brother made me promise to stop doing that after he moved out.”
“Smart man.” A vein pulses at Cash’s temple. “That’s the first place the bad guys look.”
A small smile tugs at my lips. “The bad guys?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do. But now I’m locked out of my apartment, so I kind of wish I’d risked the bad guys checking under my mat.”
The kettle starts whistling, and Cash tips his head. “You boiled water?”
I nod. “For tea. Or whatever.”
I wait on the couch, curled into one corner, while he heads to the kitchen and bangs around in the cabinets and drawers. When he finally reappears, he’s holding two steaming mugs with spoons sticking out.
“Tea?”
“Cocoa.” There’s a tic at his jaw, and if I’m not mistaken, a tinge of pink spreads along his throat. Like he’s a little embarrassed to be serving me hot chocolate.
“If there are marshmallows in this cup, I think I might expire from happiness.”
“There are marshmallows.” He puffs out a small laugh, handing over one of the mugs and settling onto the other side of the couch. “But I don’t want to be responsible for your demise. ”
“On the contrary,” I say. “You saved me tonight.” I take a beat, tipping my head. “In fact, I think we might have our thumb now.”
He blinks. “Our what?”
“You know. The fifth thing.” I hold up my hand to count on my fingers. “Snail. Panties. Car. Bike. And …” I stick my thumb out. “Pool.” I swallow against the lump in my throat. “We’re a whole hand now. Officially friends.”
His blue-gray eyes lock on mine, a sweet moment of recognition, and the spark of something vital drops into my heart. The elusive ingredient that’s escaped me on all these dates.
For all these years.
“To friends.” Cash holds his mug up in a toast.
“Friends,” I echo, at the same time a voice inside me whispers.
You want Cash Briggs to be more .
I might want him to be … everything.
We both fall quiet, sipping our cocoa, as a wall clock ticks above us. When a white crescent of marshmallow sticks to his lip, I have to stop myself from reaching over to wipe it off. Cash Briggs drinking hot cocoa might be the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. Too bad he’s already made it clear he has zero time for or interest in a girlfriend.
No love life whatsoever.
“Something wrong?” he asks, clearly noticing me staring.
I need to change the subject fast. “It’s just … you’ve got a little something right there.” I point at my mouth.
“Ah. Hazard of the cocoa.” He ducks his head, rubbing at his lips with the back of his hand. “I’d offer you something stronger, but I don’t have anything here.”
Good. Something else to focus on besides my traitorous heart.
“So … you’re not much of a drinker?” I ask .
“It’s not that.” He frowns. “I enjoy a cold beer as much as the next person. I can appreciate a nice glass of wine. I just never know when I might end up with a case. My ex-partner, Alex, and I used to take turns covering weekend surgeries. Then he left for another company. So I’m on my own now.”
I stir the half-melted marshmallows in my mug. “It doesn’t seem fair that you’re always on call. Even doctors aren’t scheduled to work twenty-four hours a day, every single day.”
“True. But emergency surgeries crop up all the time. And when my usual doctors aren’t working, other doctors are on call. If one of them wants to use me and my stuff, I need to go in. It’s all part of the business.”
I press my lips together. “No time for a life.” Like I needed that reminder.
“The job is my life.” He hitches his shoulders. “You can probably relate, as connected as you are to Serendipi-Tea.”
“I do love the shop.” I set my mug on the coffee table. “But there aren’t too many tea emergencies cropping up in the middle of the night.”
“Right.” A smile tugs at his mouth, and we drop into silence again. The moment is almost … intimate. It’s like the intensity of the night unspooled an invisible string between us. When his gaze drops to my lips, something warm stirs behind my ribs. And the longing in all the reflections I’ve seen leaps from the mirrors straight into my heart. My insides flood with awareness. More than anything, I want to kiss this man.
But I can’t.
So I take in a sip of air, hold it. Count to four.
Cash interrupts the quiet. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”
I exhale. “You pretty much saved my life tonight, so yes. Permission granted.”
“Why didn’t you tell Warren you can’t swim the first time he mentioned the pool?” Cash’s grip tightens on his mug. “You listed every other excuse in the book except the one real reason you couldn’t go in.”
“Because I never tell anyone.” Heat bolts into my throat. “And trust me, tonight’s list of excuses was only a partial one. Over the years, I’ve had to get pretty creative at swim parties and birthdays. The beach. But it turns out people are usually more worried about themselves, and they totally forget I’m there in a bathing suit with a towel but not getting wet.”
His brows pinch together. “But … why?”
I huff out a preemptive almost-laugh, prepared to make fun of myself first before anyone else can. “For the same reason I didn’t want to tell you I’m bad on a bike.” I avert my gaze. “It’s embarrassing.”
“Not knowing how to do something?” He shrugs. “That’s no big deal.”
I bite back a smirk. “Spoken like a man who’s good at everything .”
“Not everything.”
I look up, and he’s got his broad shoulders squared. “That’s awful humble of you,” I say. “But seriously. I feel like nothing comes naturally to me. And my brother’s overprotectiveness makes trying new things almost impossible. He jumps into rescue mode whenever things get hard for me. Which is great and all, don’t get me wrong. The support is wonderful most of the time.” I sigh. “But he treats me like a kid. Still. Always. And I sometimes feel like I can’t take risks or create waves without rocking his boat, too.”
Cash absorbs all of this, a fresh crease forming on his forehead. “What about your parents?”
I draw in another long breath.
Here we go, Nori. Time to get real .
“They died in a car accident when I was four.”
His eyes darken, and his Adam’s apple dips. I’ve answered this question countless times, and I always feel worse for the person I’m talking to than myself. They usually have no idea what they’re getting into when they ask.
“I’m so sorry, Nori,” he says at last. His voice is gravelly. Sincere. And my throat constricts with the instinct to make this easier on him.
“Honestly? I don’t really have many memories of that time. What I know is mostly from pictures and the stories my brother tells. I was either too young, or my mind blocked everything out. That’s what the therapists think, at least.”
A vein begins to throb above his brow. “Not remembering has gotta be hard in its own way.”
“Probably. Yes.” I tip my chin, deciding I might as well go all in with the story now that I’ve started. “My parents tried for a long time to have another baby after my brother. Eventually they came to terms with the fact that they were one and done. Sixteen years later, I came along.” I splay my hands. “Surprise!” I’m trying to lighten up a heavy topic, but Cash keeps his gaze steady on mine. “I never met my grandparents, and my mom and dad didn’t have any siblings, so there were no uncles, aunts, or extended family to take me in.”
“Wow.” Cash breathes out. He’s most likely beginning to connect the dots.
“That’s why my poor brother got stuck raising me,” I say. “It was either that, or the foster care system. He was barely twenty at the time, but he still fought to be my guardian.”
“Man, I was an idiot when I was twenty.” Cash’s voice is full of rust. “I can’t imagine unexpectedly raising a four-year-old.”
“East was amazing. That’s my brother. Easton? He’s still amazing. Although getting him to loosen the reins is an ongoing struggle.” I tuck my legs up beneath me on the couch. “And I’ll probably never get over the debt I owe him. Or the guilt I carry over what he sacrificed. He dropped out of college to work full time. And he was so worried about doing right by me, he never had any kids of his own.”
“You shouldn’t feel guilty.” Cash gives a small shake of his head. “Your brother chose that path.”
I press on a grim smile. “Did he really have a choice, though?”
Cash runs a hand along the back of his neck, but he doesn’t push back. He’s giving me space. Or maybe he’s recognizing the rhetorical nature of my question.
“He married his high school sweetheart to strengthen his case in family court. Luckily he and Becca were in love, planning to tie the knot eventually anyway. Still, taking care of me sped the timeline along. Becca’s awesome, too. So are her mom and dad. But they’re getting older now, so East and Becca moved to Boston to help out.”
“They sound like generous people.”
“They are.” I nod. “They’ve also spent most of their lives putting family first. Stuck in a perpetual caregiver sandwich. That’s why I’m never going to be a burden to them again.”
His eyes peruse my face. “So I have to ask. What does all this have to do with swimming?”
“Ah, that.” My face slips into a cringe. “To hear East tell it, I’d already been fighting our mom and dad tooth and nail about going to swim lessons. After we moved here, he tried to enroll me again, but I threw a huge tantrum. Parenting his orphaned sister was hard enough, so he just gave up. That was a hill he wasn’t prepared to die on. No pun intended.”
Cash blinks, rubs at his chin.
“Sorry for the gallows humor.” I wrinkle my nose. “Most people who are curious about my parents just want to marinate in the tragedy of it all. When I was a kid, I couldn’t deal with the heaviness of the topic. So. I made jokes.”
“Yeah.” He pauses for a breath, a slow nod coming. “I can relate. ”
“Really?” I arch a brow. “Don’t tell me your parents were in a car wreck too.”
“No,” he rushes to say. “My parents are both just fine.” He takes a beat, shifting his jaw. “ I’m the one who got wrecked,” he says. “And my mom and dad have never gotten over it. At least, not fully.”
“I’m so sorry.” I part my lips, examining his face. “Was it something to do with your career change?”
“Yeah.” He averts his gaze. “It’s got everything to do with that.”