Chapter 6
Chapter Six
“C.C.! Let me go! This is your fault!”
“No!” I scream, holding a wiggling Violet in front of me.
Mom grabs a heaping handful of flour and stalks through the kitchen like a tiger following its prey. “Taking a hostage won’t save you, Cade Charles! Even if it is my baby girl.”
I hoped using Violet would shield me from Mom’s wrath, but now we’re all covered in flour.
“Moooooom!” Violet screeches. “Help me!”
“I’m sorry, baby! Your brother dragged you into his mess.” Deep smile lines crease her face, but there’s a stern look in her eyes. “I can’t believe you went into that woman’s job and requested her! Have I not taught you anything about respect?”
As if on cue, Violet shimmies out of my grasp, and I take a powdery shot to the face, inhaling the flour like smoke.
“Yeah, C.C.! Learn some respect!” Violet mimics, sprinting to the living room for safety.
“It’s been four days! How much longer are you going to be mad?”
“Forever!” they shout.
If I had known every important woman in my life would be upset, I’d go back and sign with Trevor in a heartbeat. Mallory’s reaction was ten times scarier than the blow-up I’d expected.
MalPal
You must have a death wish. Or big balls. Either way, you’re stupid
You better be glad Kenneth loves you
Idiot
I love you too but I’m still mad
Furious, actually
I lift my hands in surrender. “I swear I tried to give her a way out.”
That she refused.
Finally, Mom relents and drops the bag of flour onto the counter.
“Fine, but you’re on cleaning duty,” she says, assessing the damage.
Flour fights were a common occurrence in our house growing up.
A puff of flour thrown in my face when I got home late.
Swiping flour on her cheeks while she stressed over a recipe.
The heart of my childhood home is right here in the kitchen.
“Come on out, Vi!” I call. “I surrendered.”
Plastic hair beads clack as she sprints around the corner and launches herself into my arms. Sticky hands grip my cheeks, forcing me to meet eyes that are identical to mine. “Mallory says when men do dumb things, they should be shamed publicly.”
I mentally curse my best friend. “You’re eight going on eighteen.”
Placing her on the counter, I head to the pantry for the broom.
The oven dings, and the smell of perfectly baked peaches makes my mouth water.
Assisting Mom with catering orders at home is my favorite, but the dessert in the oven is specially made by me with a heap of regret and sprinkled apologies.
“How are you feeling? Nervous?” Mom asks, grabbing a towel to wipe down the counters. Even when she wins, she helps me clean.
The nerves are eating me alive, but I smile anyway. “Great.”
Mom looks mildly suspicious. She knows about my history with Shay, and in an hour, I’ll be at Lake Anita for her surprise graduation party.
It was stupid to think seeing Shay at Permian wouldn’t hurt.
Her favorite color clung to her fluid figure in a way I wish I still could.
Seeing her in that dusky pink reminded me of late nights watching the sun go down with our legs tangled.
Of her laugh muffled against my skin. Of all my favorite memories.
She held herself high, knowing exactly how much space she takes up and daring anyone to ask her to shrink. Braids fell in loose curls around full hips, with delicate strands free near her temples, so stubborn like her. Standing in front of me, she was dreamlike yet completely real.
But the moment her eyes met mine, I knew everything was different. She didn’t smile. Didn’t soften. Her gaze was cold and untrusting, as if trying to protect herself.
From me.
“It’ll be wonderful,” Mom declares, ever the optimist. “You were out there chasing your dreams. There’s nothing wrong with that. Leaving to do what you love is not a crime.”
She’s right, but I lost the woman I love in the process.
“Don’t worry about that, Ma. Worry about how I’m going to explain why I have flour in my hair and look like a Black, loc’d Santa Claus.”
Taking the broom, she smiles. “Go shower. I’ll take care of the mess. Love you.”
I kiss her temple. “Love you.”
“Hey, Cade,” Jo calls from the kitchen. “Can you come here?”
Ignoring the pulsing ache in my hip, I drag my attention from the rippling water outside to the tattered couch I jumped on as a kid.
Lake Anita was my second home growing up, owned by Kenneth’s grandmother.
Nan taught me how to swim in the lake when I was six.
She and Kenneth chased baseballs I hit into the water, letting me practice for hours without complaint.
I haven’t been here since returning to North Carolina, but it still feels the same.
A pink bomb exploded inside the small house. Hot pink streamers hang from the ceiling. Pretzels are dipped in white icing with fuchsia sprinkles. Cupcakes and donuts are stacked on the dining table.
Ducking to avoid hitting my head on the doorframe, I step into the kitchen. “What’s up?”
Jo looks up, mixing something in a bowl. “Kenneth was supposed to help me finish the cookies, but he’s too busy making googly eyes at Mallory.”
A laugh comes from the hallway bathroom. “I’m just a man!”
“A weak man,” Jo mutters, grabbing what looks like a massive condom and cutting the tip off. “Can you help me?”
I dive into action, taking what she explains is a piping bag, and funnel pink icing into it. Jo’s stress baking kept The Quartet alive in college, constantly rotating between delicious goodies to battle her pre-med stress.
“Where’s Adrienne?” I ask. “Doesn’t she have first dibs on licking the bowls and spoons?”
Chilly hands with sparkly gold rings on every finger cover my eyes. “My senses are tingling. I sure hope everything said about me was pleasant.”
When I turn around, Adri’s pink dress glitters under the pendant lights.
Tonight’s dress code is all shades of pink, and everyone is complying.
Jo’s bubblegum sweatsuit looks incredibly comfortable.
Mallory’s cardigan and Kenneth’s flannel are the same shade.
The rose-colored tee I found in my closet is slightly faded but passes for pink.
Jo pushes a beater toward me and hands Adri the icing-covered spatula. “I don’t know anybody who can eat sweets like you two. Yet neither of you have ever had a cavity. It’s unfair.”
Rich chocolate melts on my tongue. Jo makes the treats, but she’s a savory kind of girl.
“Hiya, Cade,” Adri says. “Can’t believe you didn’t come to Jo’s and my parties.”
“You know I was in Boston or I would’ve been there.” Stepping forward, I wrap them both in a quick hug before Jo can scurry away from the physical touch. “Congrats on graduating. You’re CLU alumni.”
Like I could have been, except I left before getting my diploma.
“Stop it. You almost sound like a big brother.”
“I practically am. How many parties did I pick you up from? And what about the bad dates I bailed you out of? Remember that magician who—”
“Okay!” Adri shouts, tossing a kazoo at my face. “No need to air all my dirty laundry.”
“We already know about it,” Jo mumbles, pulling a tray of cookies from the freezer.
Tired of what she calls bullying, Adri stomps out of the kitchen but blows us a kiss before disappearing.
I take a moment to appreciate Jo’s precise and steady hands as she pipes icing onto the cooled S-shaped cookies. That skill will come in handy when she becomes a world-renowned surgeon.
“So,” I start, “is it just us tonight?” Mallory would’ve warned me if a guy were coming, but I didn’t have the courage to ask. And Jo doesn’t care as much about hurting my feelings. I like that about her.
A rare tenderness overtakes Jo’s meticulous features. She knows what I’m asking, but we both know I don’t have a right to.
Finally, she says, “Yup. Shay doesn’t have much time for anything but work these days. Dating is definitely off the table.”
The knot in my gut releases, but a wave of sadness hits me as high beams float in through the large windows and bathe the living room with light.
Bursting into action, Jo piles cookies onto a glass tray. Mallory sprints from the back with Adri close behind, their arms filled with pink gift bags and boxes. Tonight, Shay will be surrounded by her favorite color with her favorite foods and the people she loves.
And one person she probably hates.
“Take your positions!” Mallory orders, standing in the corner of the living room with a confetti cannon. Adri holds a pink shot glass, and Jo crouches by the light switch.
Then I remember that Shay hates surprise parties.
“Hello?” Shay opens the door. “Why are the lights off?”
With a primal scream, Mallory releases the confetti cannon.
“Surprise!” everyone shouts.
“Mother fu—” Shay chops wildly at the air, as if preparing for a fight. The terror that flickers in her wide eyes fizzles as they roll, exasperated. “You assholes! I said no surprise parties.”
“Yeah, and I said no clowns.” Adri grimaces. “And guess who showed up at my party.”
“He was a balloon artist!” Mallory argues. “I didn’t think he’d come dressed as a clown.”
“His name was Bozo, Cap! What non-clown person is named that?” Adri kneels in front of Shay and holds out the shot glass. “Tequila for the graduate.”
Thick lashes flutter as Shay takes it, and the room cheers as she swallows the clear liquid without wincing. Their laughter is louder than the cannon still ringing in my ears, but I wouldn’t turn the volume down if I could.
Then she spots me, and her eyes narrow. She may have known I was coming, but she’s not happy about my presence.
Hot pink denim is tight around her thighs but flows around her ankles, revealing pink high-top Converse. A cream tank top clings to her chest, accentuating toned arms and shoulders. Seeing her at work five days ago was painful, but seeing her here is downright brutal.
“Hi,” I say, waving like an idiot.
Shay’s jaw ticks as our friends filter out of the living room, leaving us alone. We might have been alone in the boardroom for a few minutes, but this feels different. She doesn’t have to hide our history here. And she doesn’t have to act as if she likes me.
I clear my throat. “Congrats.”
She presses her lips together, clearly unimpressed by my shoddy conversational skills. “Thanks, Cade. I look forward to working with you professionally.”
Lie, but I want to believe it’s true.
She ran out of Permian’s boardroom before the ink on my contract was dry and didn’t look back.
“Mallory said no work talk, but let’s meet next week during your homestand.” My lips quirk at her use of the baseball term as she opens her phone’s calendar app and swipes to the first game of our series in Charlotte. “We can discuss your goals and what you want from this partnership.”
I nod, but what I want isn’t possible. All I want is for Shay to look at me like she used to.
I want to hear her bubbly laugh until she cries.
I want to pepper her cheeks with kisses until she dissolves into a mess on my lap.
I want her to hold my hand when she’s scared like she did the night we got our ears pierced together.
Gold hoops dangle from her earlobes, and I rub the small silver hoop in mine.
“I see you conquered your fear and got a few more.”
Slim fingers fiddle with the two additions at the top of her ear. “They hurt way less than the first. I still can’t believe I bled that much. It looked like I had survived a horror movie.”
“We should’ve gone to the hospital the moment you started screaming.”
Shay’s determination to get her ears pierced, even though she was afraid of needles, was admirable. Earlier that night, she’d eaten a spoonful of cat food so I wasn’t alone, which is why I got my ears pierced too.
Solidarity was always our thing.
The heavy fog of tension lessens slightly, but as Kenneth and Mallory round the corner, it returns in full force. Bare shoulders rise, calm features pinch, and Shay puts an extra step between us. No matter how clear it is that things have changed, it still hurts like hell.
Mallory’s smile is weak. “Hey, sorry to interrupt. Dessert is ready.”
Kenneth’s eyes bore into me as Shay darts away from us. They’re not accusatory or judgmental. Just sad, which is almost worse.
“Did something happen?” he asks.
I grin. Keep smiling. “No. Everything is fine. You don’t need to worry about her.”
“What if we’re not only worried about her?” Mallory snaps. “Have you thought about that?”
Her tone is what almost undoes me, but keeping them from worrying is my main priority. If I start digging into everything that happened over the last two years with Jon and baseball and my crumbling mental health, they would try to move in with me.
Losing Shay was my fault, and instead of talking about it, I bottled it up with everything else and threw myself deeper into baseball and my image.
I wrap my arms around my two best friends and rest my chin in Mallory’s coconut-scented twist out. “Don’t worry about me, MalPal. You either, Kent. That’s the last thing I want.”
After convincing them I’m fine, I snag a seat at the dining table beside Adri.
The steaming peach cobbler sits in a pink baking dish with a graduation hat poking out of the flaky, perfectly browned top.
Dessert before dinner is a Quartet tradition—stopping for ice cream on their way to pick up Thai food or buying candy before their pizza feast.
“Joelly Bean!” Shay beams. “You made me a peach cobbler?”
Cloudy blue eyes meet mine in a panicked stare, but before Jo can respond, Adri giggles.
“Jo didn’t make that. Cade did.”
My cheeks flush. It was supposed to be a secret, but Adri wasn’t around when we discussed.
Shay lifts a skeptical, perfectly shaped brow. “You? Made this?”
Her doubt is valid. After starting two kitchen fires at her and Mallory’s house in college, I was banned from touching any appliances that weren’t the fridge or water filter.
I may not have inherited the cooking gene, but Mom has the best peach cobbler recipe and isn’t afraid of me starting a little fire.
I laugh. “I’ve changed a lot since college.”
“Yeah. I know.” Hurt simmers beneath her composed tone. She must hear it too because she clears her throat. “Thank you, Cade.”
Kenneth, my saving grace, claps and begins serving dessert. Over everyone’s heads, he gives me a look. I’m here for you, it says. I hold my hands in a heart above my head. For the rest of the evening, he doesn’t leave my side.
There are a lot of reasons to be happy, but being back with them is at the top of the list.