Chapter Twenty-Five
Caine
Mikayla is smiling. She raises a hand and wipes the tears away from her cheeks. Her beautiful face is puffy, her eyes a deeper shade of green, but she’s smiling.
“Okay, our first road trip. Let’s do this!” she says, emphasizing the word this. “Twenty questions,” she announces.
“Favorite color?”
“Blue. Favorite food?”
“Mashed potatoes, but with gravy!” She emphasizes.
For almost an hour we just go back and forth, asking each other the most random shit. And it’s silly and fun. Finally, she seems like herself again.
The song “What I Want” by Morgan Wallen and Tate McRae plays on the radio as we hit the four-hour mark. Mikayla leans back and listens to the lyrics. I grab her hand and link my fingers with hers.
I recall the night she called me. The night her car broke down.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been more grateful that a car broke down than when yours did.” I share with her.
I bring the back of her hand to my lips and rub mine against the softness of her skin.
I turn and see her smiling. “Has it really only been a week?” she asks. “Feels like it’s been longer.”
We drift back into a comfortable silence. “All the Way” by BigXthaPlug that’s the difference,” she smiles sweetly, tilting her head.
“So, once, when Caine was on the road…”
“Shut the fuck up now…” I say, my voice low, serious, angry as I take in my baby brother.
“Oh, shh… this has to be good if he’s that upset,” Mikayla laughs, lowering my hand.
I don’t know why I fought it so hard. I should have known they’d get the stories in.
By the end of dinner, Mikayla is definitely drunk. But she’s laughing, and I can see it’s real, genuine joy in her eyes. If hearing embarrassing stories about me makes her this happy, who am I to take this from her.
“I can’t believe your mother walked in on you with three women! Jesus, you really were a man whore!” Mikayla looks half horrified while she laughs at me.
“In my defense, I hadn’t invited them to my hotel room; they just showed up,” I argue.
“I’m sure you were inconsolable,” she replies, rolling her eyes at me. But the joy is fading.
“Caine peed the bed until he was seven,” Patrick mutters out of nowhere.
A burst of laughter escapes Mikayla’s lips before she slams both hands over her mouth.
“That’s a blatant lie!” I accuse, pointing my finger at my little brother.
“Yeah, but it got her to laugh,” Patrick says, pointing and smiling at Mikayla. She reaches over the table, and they clasp hands.
“Thank you,” she mouths to him. And he bows his head.
“So, Caine, should we call Pamela over to wipe that frown off your face?” Lance asks, laughing and clapping his hands.
No one laughs; everyone just stares at him.
“Too far?” Lance asks.
“Like three miles from too far,” Rabecca says, sipping her Sprite.
“Where is your wife?” I ask Hugh.
“She was generous enough to let me come here, and she took homework duty,” he says with a smile.
As we drive to the hotel, I can’t help but notice Mikayla is quiet. Not only is she silent, but I can also see that she’s sitting stiffly, uncomfortable.
“I didn’t want you hearing those stories,” I begin, making an assumption about why she’s quiet.
“What, baby?” she asks, looking at me like I was speaking in a foreign language.
“What’s wrong?” I ask—this time, not assuming.
“You have a good family,” she says softly.
“I’m going out on a limb here and guessing that isn’t why you’re upset.”
“Not upset. Maybe a little jealous,” she says. She blows air out of her mouth, puckers her lips and shrugs her shoulders.
Give it time; they’ll be your family soon, I think, but I’m smart enough not to say that out loud. Way too soon!
I pull up at the hotel. And walk her to our room.
“Go for a swim with me?”
“It’s open?”
“All night.” I smile. But I don’t say I paid the staff to give us private access to the pool, hot tub and sauna.
I suppress the urge to take her, with that tiny bikini covering next to nothing, and instead take her hand as I walk to the pool.
We swim and make out like teenagers in the hot tub. And when I make love to her in the king-size bed in our room, I feel her love.
She can’t say the words yet, and after our day, I don’t blame her. It’s too soon for both of us. But I feel it, nonetheless. And when she drifts off to sleep against my chest, I smile because she will wake up with me beside her.
Tomorrow will be a new day, and it will start the way today should have. With her in my arms.