Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sunday and Monday were a whirlwind of working with my lawyer and financial advisor to make sure we sent over all the right documents subpoenaed but nothing extra.
When my lawyer Amy heard about it, I had to let her curse for a straight five minutes.
While she was a family lawyer, she was my go-to for anything related to the law and she helped me crawl through all the hoops dealing with my mother and with my emancipation.
She was more than happy to help me with this too.
She already raged war against the police department when they had endangered me in order to arrest the Ryder gang, so she’d love to do it again if I needed it.
I felt bad dumping this issue on Amy on Sunday, but she was determined to get it resolved quickly and she personally knew my advisor, so she lit a fire under his ass to get him working too.
By Monday night, the police had everything they needed to clear my name, and hopefully Hope’s Embrace too.
The next couple of days passed by a little too quickly, all my thoughts not just on Paxon now, but also on the danger that seemed to be looming over Hope’s Embrace.
I went through the motions of going to school, working, and staying home.
I tried not to notice how hollow everything felt.
The guys did check in on me often, but there was still that empty space between us all.
I tried to fill it with music and it kind of helped. Mostly.
By Saturday, clouds had rolled in, turning the sky into an infinite stretch of soft grey. It made me want to curl up inside and just drink something hot and lose myself to loud music.
Unfortunately, or maybe it was a good thing, but Toby wasn’t going to let me wallow around by myself. He came over just before noon, arms loaded with snacks and his backpack slung over his shoulder. “All right, candy drop, ready to finish this death march of a portfolio before our brains leak out?”
I laughed, stepping aside so he could come in. “You mean your brain. Mine’s already been mush for weeks.”
He grinned, kicking off his shoes. “Then we’re doomed. Guess we’ll just have to smile prettily for Mrs. Odera and show off our dazzling personalities.”
We spread out across the living room floor, surrounded by half-scribbled music sheets, pencils, and Toby’s steady stream of jokes.
Between his humming and my playing the guitar, the house actually felt alive again.
It reminded me why I liked working with him.
Toby had this way of making all the heavy things in the world feel lighter.
It was a great escape that I was scared of relying on a little too much.
This was so new to me. I had learned to survive by not relying on anyone. I couldn’t with my mother, my father, not even teachers or adults who turned a blind eye to my life or fell for Lindie’s lies. Hope’s Embrace had cracked that armor a little once I started working with them.
Toby and the guys...they were starting to do the same thing.
I stared at Toby, really looked at him.
He’d showered recently, his familiar scent that always clung to him was stronger today, brightened by a faint citrus note that made something in my chest settle.
His light brown hair, streaked with blond, was still damp around the edges.
He didn’t have his hair spiked up like he normally did, but it still worked with his chaotic energy.
His hazel eyes were mostly brown today, like warm chocolate.
But every now and then a flash of forest green cut through when he focused or took something seriously as he looked over the sheet music spread between us.
Toby Braden was a walking contradiction.
He was most definitely a troublemaker who somehow made everything feel safe.
He was a chaotic storm of silliness and pranks, but also the same guy who lived with his aunt to ease the burden on his parents.
He was the boy who always pushed me forward when I stalled and reeled me back in when I spun too fast. He was someone who kept proving that people could be good.
I took in a slow breath, his citrus scent filling my lungs, and something warm unfurled in my chest. Toby didn’t realize what he was doing for me, especially for the last few months.
“You okay?” he asked suddenly, catching me staring. His voice was serious.
I nodded, though maybe it wasn’t entirely true.
He tilted his head to the side, knowing I was bullshiting him.
I sighed. “I’m working on it,” I finally admitted.
He leaned his shoulder against mine, just enough to be supportive but not overwhelming.
“Good,” he said. “I like when you work on it with me.”
The warmth spread deeper, settling behind my ribs.
About an hour in, Toby’s phone buzzed across the table. He grabbed it, frowned briefly, and then smiled. “Austin’s calling.”
I looked up. “Really? I didn’t think you two talked that often.”
He shrugged but answered, voice brightening. “Hey, little man! Yeah, yeah, I’m still alive. Promise.” He got up and paced as he listened, then his grin widened. “Nah, I’m not kidding, I actually got in. Yeah, that program. It’s happening. Did Mom tell you?”
There was a beat of silence and then a real, warm laugh that filled the room. “No, I didn’t bribe anyone.” His grin stretched further across his face. “Right. They’re desperate for some chaos.”
I couldn’t help smiling as I watched him. He leaned against the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck. He only did that when he was nervous and his emotions were creeping up on him.
When he finally hung up, Toby looked dazed, still half-smiling. “He said he’s proud of me. Proud. That might be a first.”
“Congrats,” I said softly. “Really.”
“Yeah.” He exhaled, letting himself sink onto the couch. “I got in. Music program at SUNY Potsdam. Close enough to drive home.”
I grinned. “That sounds great.”
“Yeah.” He paused, thoughtful. “It feels right. Like maybe all the shit we went through is actually leading somewhere good.”
I fiddled with my pencil, the tip tapping against my music notebook. “Feels like everyone’s finding their place.”
Toby studied me. “You sound like that’s a bad thing.”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “It’s just I thought I’d feel excited for the future, but instead I just feel—”
“Scared?” he offered gently.
“Something like that.” I forced a smile. “Everything’s shifting, and I’m not sure what it’s shifting into.”
He leaned back, propping his arms behind him. “That’s kind of the deal, though. Change never gives you a heads-up. It just kicks the door open and starts rearranging your furniture.”
I laughed under my breath. “That’s an awful metaphor.”
“Yeah, but it works.” He smirked at me, all too proud of himself.
Toby picked up one of my draft sheets, scanning a few bars of melody. “This one’s new.”
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Still figuring it out.”
He hummed the tune softly under his breath, then looked up. “You know, I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. You don’t just write music, Cadence. You build it. It’s like you leave little pieces of yourself in every note.”
My throat went tight, and I had to look away. “That’s probably why I’m so tired all the time.”
Toby’s smile was faint. “Nah. You’re just human. A tired, brilliant, emotionally wrecked human—but still human.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Thanks, I guess.”
He reached over, bumping his shoulder against mine. “You’re gonna be fine. Even if Paxon is an idiot now. Even if everything feels like it’s shifting. You’ve survived worse.”
I swallowed hard, nodding once. “That doesn’t make it easier.”
“No,” he agreed. After a moment, he said, “You know he’s trying, right? In his own annoying Paxon way. The guy’s messed up about this, but I don’t think he’s given up.”
I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “That doesn’t help,” I whispered. “Knowing he cares doesn’t fix how much it hurts.”
Toby’s smile turned sad. “No, it doesn’t. But maybe it means he’ll come around. And if he doesn’t then we’ll just add his name to the long list of idiots who let something good slip through their fingers.”
That earned a laugh from me, it was shaky and weak, but it was real. “You’re too good at this.”
He shrugged. “Therapy’s expensive. Humor’s free.”
I snorted and focused back on my work. It was only a few minutes later when he spoke again.
“Candy cane?”
“Hm?”
“I think you need a break.”
I snorted. “From what? My life?”
“Yes,” he said simply. “Exactly that.”
Before I could respond, he gathered all my papers and set them aside.
“Toby!”
“Nope. Music time is over. Mental health time is happening. Get your shoes.”
I blinked. “What? Why?”
He grinned, wide and mischievous, like he was about to commit a felony. Knowing him, it probably was.
“I’m taking you out on a date.”
My stomach flipped. “A—what?”
“A date. You know, that thing couples do together,” he said proudly. “A much-needed, very fun, extremely therapeutic Toby-approved date.”
I blinked again. “I...what are we doing?”
He stood, grabbed my hand, and tugged me to my feet. While I knew he wanted to keep the idea a secret, he also knew how I felt about surprises. I watched him fight with himself before giving in and telling me.
“Paintball.”
I froze. “No.”
“Yes,” he said, already dragging me toward the door. “Candy pop, trust me. You’ve never lived until you’ve violently chased your friends around and bruised them legally.”
“Toby, I’ve never done that before.”
“Even better. Come on.”
He didn’t wait for me to protest again, he just pulled me along, practically buzzing with excitement.
Twenty minutes later, we were walking into a facility I didn’t even know existed. The building smelled like rubber, sweat, and cheap soap. Alarms buzzed every round or so, echoing through the giant warehouse of neon obstacles and fog machines.