5. Cade
Chapter five
Cade
It’s impossible to concentrate at work after my run-in with Sloane at the festival. All these thoughts I’ve been trying to repress after our encounter at the bookstore started returning full force. I want to believe they’re just spurred by the anger of her being gone so long, but I have to remind myself to dial it back. What do I really have to be angry at her for? She’s been gone for a decade, but who cares? She isn’t my sister, though she has been a huge part of my life since she was born.
Mike and I met when we were in grade school. Immediately, we clung to each other like two magnets. We loved a lot of the same things, and we just understood one another. At the time, it was just Mike and Mia and their parents, Ann and Peter. They welcomed me over all the time, and things were pretty great.
One day, though, I get to school and Mike tells me that his parents are having another kid. We’re ten at this point, so all we focused on was how old his parents must be, but he wasn’t exactly thrilled to know he was going to be a big brother for the second time. As he put it, “If it’s a boy, he’s going to want to come with us and be annoying. If it’s a girl and anything like Mia, she will just be annoying.”
I still chuckle at the memory, but when Sloane was finally born, it was like a switch flipped for Mike. Those feelings no longer mattered, and all that did was protecting her. He loved Sloane with every ounce he had, and Sloane clung to him like superglue. Don’t get me wrong, their relationship never got to the point where I was jealous or worried I’d take a backseat, but Mike and Sloane were different than Mia and Mike. It’s like he knew that Sloane would need a little more TLC.
I think that’s why I was upset when Sloane left Rose Valley. I saw how hard Sloane’s absence hit Mike. Every birthday she missed, and every one he didn’t get to spend with her, made him feel deeply lonely. It was even worse when I was living out in D.C. and couldn’t make up for her absence.
Honestly, her absence is part of the reason why I came back. My best friend needed me. Who else is going to be there for him?
I keep telling myself that I didn’t anticipate this. This feeling of wondering, the what-ifs, but that would be a lie. There was one fleeting moment that passed years ago, and I thought that’s all it was, but maybe it was the beginning of something bigger.
I left work early. I couldn’t stand being stuck in my stuffy office any longer when my life felt like it was in a never-ending spiral. The coffee helped a little, but running into the object of my spiraling did not. If anything, all it did was confuse me more.
The good news is the Rose Valley Annual Festival is happening in the town square. I tend to make an appearance every year, give back to the community where I can. When Liam isn’t visiting his grandparents, I take him around so he can pig out on junk before hitting the bounce house. It’s the only time each year I feel like I get to see all the hard work I put into this town being showcased. For a while, it was touch and go.
What I didn’t expect to see was Sloane standing by the high school art club’s booth, let alone giving the teenage girl running the booth the time of day. Truthfully, Sloane looked like she’d rather be anywhere else, but bless her for sticking through it.
I see that the booth is accepting donations to give art supplies to kids in need. It’s admirable for the high school to go to those lengths. I look over Sloane’s shoulder and see mentions of a raffle for every donation they secure.
“Oh my goodness! I didn’t realize you didn’t know! You should sue,” the teen says, grabbing my attention, and that’s when I notice the print for the Grand Prize: an original copy from local art star Sloane Bennett. She must not have known this was going to be a prize for this event. Based on her demeanor and the tension in her shoulders, I can sense she’s about to lose it.
I clear my throat. “You technically could, but…”
She turns around and looks directly at me, shooting me the iciest look through her ocean-blue eyes.
“…but think of the children,” I finish.
Okay, it’s a low blow. I’ll admit it, but if it even has a chance of keeping this poor teenager out of the line of fire, I’ll gladly take one for the team.
Sloane turns back to the teen and grumbles, “I hope you get more donations.” She’s about to leave, but my work in helping my community is never done, so I pluck the flyer out of Sloan’s hand, scan the code on the front, and deposit my generous contribution to their cause. Once I have the raffle ticket, I can’t help but make one final jab in her direction.
“I hope I win a Sloane Bennett original,” I say, earning an eye roll from her. I chuckle, but even in this moment, I can’t ignore that running into her two times in one day is no coincidence, despite how small of a town this is.
“Want to walk with me?” I ask her. We need to talk properly—none of these verbal gymnastics we’ve been pulling on each other these past two days. It’s time we clear the air and figure out if this is all in our heads, or if we’re just denying the inevitable.
We stroll through the festival, taking in the buzz of the crowd while we internally coil within ourselves. It shouldn’t be this hard to talk about what happened between us, but this thing we’ve opened is delicate. We aren’t just two strangers who met during a one-night stand—we’ve known each other almost our entire lives. This split-second decision we made could change the relationships we’ve built with other people.
“I didn’t think you’d make it out to the festival,” I say as she hums softly, then looks up at me. She looks away almost immediately, sighing and shaking her head. Based on her reaction, it seems like she’d rather be anywhere else.
“I needed to get out of the house,” she replies dejectedly, like defeat has won the battle she’s been fighting in her head. I can count on one hand the number of heart-to-hearts Sloane and I have had over the course of our lives, so I can understand that she doesn’t want to confide in me about whatever’s stressing her out. But I can sense how alone she’s feeling, and I want to be there for her.
I stopped near Rosa’s Cantina, the local Spanish restaurant with the best margaritas I’ve ever had. “You want a margarita?” I ask her.
She looks at me, pondering her decision. She licks her lips and bites the bottom one, unsure. Finally, she sighs and nods. “Sure, but a virgin, please,” she says as I quickly leave to grab two of their best flavor: strawberry mango. When I return, I hand her hers and take mine, sipping generously, feeling both cool and warm from the alcohol.
“So…” I begin, not wanting to make it seem like I’m prying, but I also don’t want to seem like I’m being insensitive, either, by ignoring whatever’s bothering her. Surely, whatever it is isn’t just about what happened between us. Well, I’m certain it’s part of it because it’s impossible to ignore it, despite how much I wish we could, but I’d be a fool to think it’s all there is.
She rolls her eyes and then meets my gaze. “You’re terrible at this.”
I stop short, prompting her to do the same.
“If you want to know, just ask,” she says.
Okay…
“What’s bothering you?” I ask, probably sounding more uncertain than I meant to. Asking such a simple question like this shouldn’t be so difficult.
She smiles knowingly, as if she can sense my overthinking, but she doesn’t tease. “I’m having a creative block,” she says.
I nod slowly, but let her continue.
“I’m worried my next collection will not be met with the same enthusiasm as the first,” she admits. “I thought if I got out and went around town that inspiration would spark from somewhere. Instead, all I found was a high school fan club for me, which I’ll need to yell at my mom for.”
I chuckle softly at the last bit. Something tells me there’s a story there, but there will be a time for that later.
We continue walking until we find an empty bench. It’s secluded enough but still gives a view of the festival in all its glory. We sit in silence as I mull over her words. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be creative and struggle like this. The best art I can do is stick figures, but I know what it’s like to feel the pressure to continue to be the best. Or at the very least, be better than the last time.
I was a football star in high school. My father always pushed me to keep getting better and better every game. When you’re in a small town like Rose Valley, sports is the only thing you have to look forward to. But now there’s the desire to be the best father I can be for Liam. I can provide for him all I want, but the money means nothing if I am not present emotionally and physically. I value the time I make for Liam, regardless of how busy my work is. My son will always come first.
So, I relate to Sloane’s struggle, and being alone during these bouts can be even harder. Typically, if I’m feeling overwhelmed, I know I can rely on Mike to help me make sense of things. But who does Sloane have? From what I know, she doesn’t really talk to Mike the way she used to. I just wish I knew why she makes a point of shutting everyone out.
“Do you remember after your graduation,” I begin, and she looks at me, “I went to find a bathroom and nearly ran into you as you came out of the girls’ bathroom?”
She smirks. “Seems like bathrooms are a thing for us,” she says as it dawns on me. My eyes widen slightly, causing her to chuckle as the straw from her margarita nestles between her front teeth.
Heat radiates up my neck, but I do my best to ignore it. “Anyway,” I roll my eyes before continuing, “you had been crying, so I asked you to take a walk with me.”
It dawns on me how familiar this moment is for us because she was sad about graduating back then. So we walked the halls to reminisce about our time at Rose Valley, albeit during different times. However, my championship photo was still locked in the memorabilia cabinet with our trophy.
“You told me to paint what I was feeling, and I told you I was too sad to paint,” she says softly, and I smile as she recounts the memory.
“And what did I say?”
She sighs and shakes her head. “You said there is no such thing, and then you took me to the art room and sat me in front of a blank canvas and told me to paint,” she says before finally looking back at me.
“Feeling inspired yet?” I ask as she smiles, biting her bottom lip.
“I think I am,” she murmurs, and for a moment, I think I see her eyes flick to my own lips. I wonder if she’s feeling the same charged energy I am. That desire to touch her, to taste her one more time.
But I don’t. Instead, I allow myself to let the moment slip by and look away, steeling myself. Whatever this moment was, it has long passed, and the best thing I can be for her is a friend, if nothing else. I need to think about people other than myself, like Mike and my son. Even considering a relationship with someone who lives a different life than me, let alone is so much younger, would be asinine.
“What the…” I hear Sloane whisper.
I look over at her. She’s looking over to her left, and as I follow her line of sight, I see a man lingering nearby with a camera in hand. The sight wouldn’t be out of the ordinary, if his demeanor didn’t give off the sense that he was hiding something, or the fact that he was dressed in a poor attempt to disguise himself.
I look back at her. “Do you know him?”
She gulps and shakes her head. She meets my eyes, looking almost scared but more confused than anything.
“I can’t see his face, but he seems familiar.” She takes a deep breath. “I may have got him mixed up with someone. Anyway, I should probably get home,” she says, almost rushing to leave now.
I feel conflicted, but I stand up with her and deposit our cups in the trash.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask as she smiles up at me. She stands on her toes to press a kiss to my cheek, leaving a warm spot in its wake.
“I’m better now. Thank you,” she says softly. “See you soon, Cade,” she adds before turning to walk away.
I stand there a little longer, watching her disappear down the town center. I look back to where the man is, only to find him gone.
Strange…
My instincts tell me this is something I should look into, but maybe Sloane is right. Perhaps it’s nothing.