Chapter 24
24
Cate
We hit the highway, and I use the opportunity to peek over at him when he merges lanes. It’s not that I haven’t looked at him since I arrived at the apartment to find him waiting on me. It’s that I can’t bear to wait any longer to see how he’s physically changed since we were together.
I want to look at him, to stare, to analyze every new line, and see if the crinkles around his eyes have deepened. I want to swim in the blues of his eyes for a better vantage point.
Attraction was never the issue with Shane. He’s gorgeous, handsome beyond what I thought humanly possible. And looking at him now, not much has changed appearance-wise, but I sense a change that I can’t quite put my finger on. Humility? The jury is still out on that one.
The Ferrari is why he’ll be found guilty. Sure, he offered the keys to me, but it’s such a symbol of who he was last August that it’s hard to see anything new.
Maybe that’s on me, though—holding grudges when I don’t need to. I’m driving my same old car. Using that example, he’s being responsible by driving a car he already owned instead of trading it in for a new one each year.
I roll my eyes, needing to get out of my head so much. Geez, Cate, relax.
“Why aren’t you on tour?” I ask, fidgeting with my seat belt. “I thought Faris Wheel tours every summer?”
“Things have changed.” His eyes stay on the road, but I notice how his grip tightens around the steering wheel.
It wasn’t just the paperwork that demanded I be here. I wanted to come. Maybe I’m a masochist. I just think what happened between us can be explained now that we’ve put distance to it. Am I just feeding the curiosity beast, or can I get him to open up to me? “Like what?”
He laughs, though I’m not sure why. Changing lanes once more, he shrugs. “The band’s dynamic.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
Glancing over at me, he says, “Everything is fine with the band.” I shamelessly watch him, analyzing every detail of emotion that whisks its way across his face. I don’t say anything before he adds, “It is, but our priorities have shifted. Laird and Poppy had their twins, and?—”
“They have twins?” I lean my head back and smile, remembering Laird from high school. He and Shane were practically inseparable and similar in so many ways. They both had every reason to be jerks—popular, attractive, charismatic—but they weren’t.
“Posey and Mack.” As if smiling for himself, he looks over and says, “They’re amazing. Mack is my little buddy. He wants me to hold him all the time and doesn’t need entertaining. He’s just happy to be in my arms.”
“And Posey?”
“She’s so smart. She’s got the brightest, bluest eyes and a giggle that has her dad wrapped around her little finger. She’s the sweetest like her mom.”
I’m not going to wave the green flag, but I’m ready to pull it out and streak through Griffith Park waving it like mad after listening to this giant of a man talk about his sweet baby cousins. “You close to them?”
He inhales a deep breath and blows out of his mouth slowly. The question seems to be hitting close to home from his reaction. “They’ve had a big impact on me.”
The calm I recognized, the cool confidence instead of cocky arrogance, the way he seems more relaxed in his whole being has me angling toward him. “I’ll interrogate you if you let me.”
“I don’t mind the questions. Not even the hard ones.” Briefly looking over, he says, “It’s what I wanted for us this weekend.”
His voice is steady, no fear to be found. No worries are heard. Everything about him makes me believe he’s telling the truth. But it still leaves a lingering question. “Why? Do you need closure? Want the information so you can move on with someone else? Why didn’t you just divorce me, Shane?”
Life seems to move faster in a Ferrari. We’ve reached the edge of LA and keep heading toward the mountains. The view doesn’t matter. I look at him, waiting to hear the one thing I could never figure out.
He says, “We were attracted to each other and thought that could save us. We barely knew each other and hadn’t built a foundation, much less anything strong enough to keep us together.”
His words aren’t hurtful, but my chest clenches, making me feel every pressured squeeze of my heart. I now know why my throat has thickened. I asked the question. I’ve wanted to know because I couldn’t answer it myself. He’s right. Every word made so much more sense when I realized we were set up to fail from the beginning.
“I didn’t expect so much honesty before we reached the city limits.”
“We left the city and the county behind us already.”
Although there’s so much to unpack emotionally, to sort through the dirty laundry of what happened to us, I know I’ve been going along while not asking many questions. I need to participate and not just react anymore. “Where are we going?”
“Deer Lake. My aunt and uncle own a cabin on the lake.” Our eyes meet for the briefest of moments before we both look forward again. “It’s about an hour from where we are.”
“Where are we? Really, Shane, what do you think will change in the next forty-eight hours?” A part of me wants to get the heavy stuff out in the open, to address our issues, and arrive at our destination with less baggage weighing us down. The other half of me wants a glass of wine, some cheese and crackers, maybe some grapes as well, and to lounge lakeside without worrying about Shane, me, the two of us together, or anything else. To let what’s destined to happen, happen like Luna always says.
She has the luxury of money supporting her belief system. I’ve had to create my life from the ground up all by myself. So leaving things be doesn’t come naturally to me.
He replies, “I hope you won’t hate me anymore.”
“I never hated you. That was part of the problem. I accepted you for who you were.”
“I’m different now.” The words are fine, though they don’t penetrate the skin. I’m not cruel, but I can’t believe everything someone tells me until they show me as well.
“This is a chance to start over, to erase what happened like it never did?” The bitterness that rises from a deeper side of my heart, one I had locked out when I closed the door on our relationship, resurfaces. I didn’t even realize how much anger I had held onto. Now I hear it through a tremble of my tongue, exposing the pain he caused through my tone.
“You can ask me anything. You can yell or shout at me, Cat, but that doesn’t mean I’ll give an answer that suits what you need. All I can do is say I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for dragging you into the world that revolved around me with no place for anyone else. I can’t seem to be sorry for what gave me the opportunity to apologize. Forced or not, I want you to know I left your apartment. It wasn’t you I rejected. It was my life, the life I called living.”
“Did you return the text you got that night? Did you meet up with her? Tell her that you’d broken my heart, but would fuck her like you thought you’d be fucking me?” Tears fill the waterline of my eyes, threatening to pool over. I didn’t mean to revisit the hurt of that night, the thoughts that ran rampant in my mind if he left me for someone else or just didn’t want me anymore.
“Cat?” His voice is low as he reaches over to rub the back of my neck. “I’m sorry for hurting you.”
Despite how good it feels to have him touch and comfort me, I anchor my elbow on the door and stare out the window. A few tears fall, but I grow stronger with each passing minute. Harder on the outside to protect the softness of my heart from being damaged again.
When the warmth disappears from my skin, clarity enters. The lack of an answer is the answer I needed. Now I know. I can never trust?—
“They were from Laird.”
I whip my eyes back to him, narrowing as I try to understand. “The texts?”
“Laird texted me because he took Poppy to the hospital. Twins tend to come early. She’d had contractions, and he wanted to make sure she and the babies were alright.”
I’ve always heard there are two sides to a story. It’s so easy to forget when you’re caught up in your own emotions. I whisper, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew we were already over.”
The blade was so slick I barely felt it pierce my heart. And then I felt everything all over again. “I wish I had known.”
“I did you a favor. It had already gone too far that night for us to salvage the remains.”
The elevation changes. I can feel it in my ears as my stomach twists from the gradual curves. “Can we stop the car?”
“I’ll have to find a place to pull over.”
I grip the door with one hand and press to the seat with the other. “I’m going to be sick.”
Shane pulls off the main road, parking just off the edge of a turnoff. I pop the door and run to the nearest bushes and bend over. The fresh air settles my racing thoughts, the solid ground helping with my stomach. I plant my hands on my hips, standing back up.
In through the nose. Out through my mouth. In. Out. In. Out.
I don’t know if it’s the confirmation that he didn’t care or the change in altitude. Either way, I’ll need more time to recover.
After a few more deep breaths, I turn around to find him standing on this side of the Ferrari. He looks at me, and says, “We were heated. We argued. When I left, I didn’t know it would be forever.”
I cover my mouth, disappointed that I’m even crying. I hate feeling powerless, but I do with him. “Then why didn’t you come back?”
“Because I loved you too much.”
“What does that mean, Shane?” I shout across the short distance as anger fills me. “You loved me too much, so you hurt me?”
“I loved you too much, so I saved you from being with me.”
I throw my arms in the air, frustrated. “That makes no sense.” Walking away from him and the car, from this conversation . . . argument or whatever it is. The gravel crunches under my sneakers, the wind blowing against my dress and pushing my hair behind my shoulders. I keep walking because I need the distance to clear my head.
Forty-eight hours of this.
Damn him.
Staying steady on the one-lane road, I walk until the tears dry and my resentment tempers. I stay close to the line of trees but keep my feet on the edge of concrete.
I stop when my blood pressure has lowered along with my anger. The bear crossing sign also alarms me. I’ve gone far enough. I turn around to find Shane right there with me all along. Twenty feet back. Smart enough to give me distance and enough room to allow me to work through my feelings
He says, “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
“I was here when you were ready.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “What if I’m never ready, Shane?”
“I’ll still be here.”
Everything he says feels real, and the pain in my heart lessens from hearing the words. But seeing him and not asking anything from me but my presence has me wondering what he needs to close the door on us. If not that night, then forever.
Forty-eight hours.
At the rate we’re going, I’m about to find out.