by Devney Perry
I paid the clerk for Kat’s chocolate, then squared my shoulders and stalked outside. My steps slowed as I approached and caught the scowl on her face. “What’s wrong?”
“Carol told my entire staff not to email me. Which is ironic because Annabeth just emailed me to tell me they aren’t allowed to email me.”
I chuckled. “Sounds like Grandma.”
“Grrr.” Kat tossed a hand in the air. “I’m on vacation. I’m not dead.”
“She’s just trying to help.”
“But it’s stressing me out. I love my job.”
“I know.”
“I want to do my job.”
“And you can.” I stepped closer and put a hand on her shoulder. How many times had I done this? How many times had I touched her? Hundreds. Thousands. Yet like last night when I’d given her a hug, suddenly everything felt differently. I yanked my hand away, the heat from her skin too hot and electric.
She looked at me, then her eyes dropped to the place where I’d touched her. They alternated back and forth, like she was checking to make sure I hadn’t wiped a booger on her or something. Then her gaze went to the ground and her shoulders slumped.
“Here.” I handed her the chocolate.
“What’s this for?”
I shrugged. “Just because.”
She lifted her lashes and gave me a sad smile. “Thanks. Maybe a few hundred empty calories will make me feel better.”
“Grandma just wants you to take a vacation. A real vacation. Let her handle whatever happens at home.”
“What if there’s a crisis?”
“She’ll call. Trust me. No news is good news.”
“Fine,” she muttered. “I feel like I got kicked out.”
“No one would ever dream of kicking you out.”
She sighed. “I’ll take the next shift driving.”
I dug the keys from my pocket and handed them over. We’d left the doors unlocked because the top was down, so I gave her some space to walk past me and around the hood before climbing in the passenger seat.
It should have been better riding shotgun, because my gaze could wander, but as we headed west on the interstate, it constantly seemed to drift toward her, like a magnet to steel. My foot bounced on the floor. My hand tapped on my knee.
Kat was stunning behind the wheel, the sun lighting her face and those floating tendrils of hair brushing her shoulders. She’d be even prettier with a smile.
“Tell me more about Aria,” I said, hoping to take Kat’s mind off work and mine off Kat. “How’d she come to live in the junkyard?”
“Because of Londyn,” she said. “They’d lived in the same trailer park. Aria and Clara were living with their uncle. Their parents died in a car accident and the uncle was the only living relative so he got custody. I never saw the guy or met him, but Londyn knew him from their neighborhood. Gemma saw him once when she snuck to their trailer with Aria to steal Clara’s bike. I guess he was a major creep. Gemma said he had these beady eyes that made you want to take a shower.”
“Did he do something to Aria and Clara?”
“I don’t know. It was a no-go subject. They knew that Londyn had run away from her druggie parents and started asking around, trying to find out where she’d gone. They walked into the junkyard one day, holding hands, and that was it. They lived with us.” A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “They each had these huge backpacks stuffed so tight that when they unzipped them, everything inside just exploded. Clothes. Food. Money. Medicine. They were far more prepared to live there than any of the rest of us had been.”
“Londyn and Karson had this Caddy. Gemma and you were in the tent. Where did Aria and Clara stay?”
“In a delivery van. They were smart. They picked a place off the ground and with fewer holes so they didn’t have to deal with the mice.”
My stomach knotted, like it had yesterday, not wanting to think about Kat sleeping with vermin. “Was it really better than home?”
“Yes.” No hesitation.
“What about foster care?”
She shook her head. “That junkyard was my only option.”
“And your parents—”
“Should we flip again?” She was already taking out the quarter, balancing the wheel with her knee as she tossed the coin.
At the next exit, Kat got off the interstate and turned on the radio. The music blared, and with the wind whipping over us, it would be impossible to talk.
Conversation over.
She drove with her gaze fixed on the road, never wavering. Never offering another opening to a new topic, certainly not about life before the Greer Ranch and Mountain Resort.
I should have thanked her because instead of thinking about the bare skin of Kat’s legs or the slender line of her neck or the graceful drape of her wrist over the steering wheel, I spent the next few hours wondering why my best friend was so hell-bent on keeping secrets.
Maybe she kept hers for the same reason I kept mine.
Because the truth would drive us apart.
Chapter Six
Katherine
“Want to flip or . . .” Please say no. Please say no.
“When are you supposed to meet Aria?” Cash asked.
“There’s no schedule. She doesn’t even know I’m coming, but I think sooner rather than later.”
“Then let’s get into Oregon today.”
Thank God. I dropped the quarter onto the leather seat, not caring if it got wedged in a crack and disappeared into the Cadillac for life. Then I put the car in drive and pulled away from the motel where we’d stayed last night.
This trip was the worst idea I’d had in years. Actually, it had been Gemma’s idea, so I was placing the blame at her feet.
I wanted to get to Heron Beach, give this car to Aria and hop on the nearest plane to Montana. Assuming she’d take the car. Oh God, what if she didn’t take the car? What if I had to endure a return trip with Cash?
I sent up a silent prayer that Aria would buy into this whole Cadillac handoff thing because there was no way I’d go to California and I didn’t know if I could survive another awkward and tense day with Cash.
So much for a last hurrah.
How had it come to this? How had two people who could finish each other’s sentences have so little to say? Never in a million years would I have expected this road trip to be so miserable. I mean, I’d expected it to be hard because I secretly loved him. But no harder than any regular day.
It was my fault. He knew. That first night, Cash must have realized my feelings for him weren’t entirely platonic.
Me and my sniffing and lingering hugs. I’d stared too much over dinner at the supper club. I’d been too happy that he’d dumped Dany.
He knew.
Yesterday, he’d barely made eye contact, and when he had, there had been restraint in his gaze, like he was consciously weighing every move. He’d put his hand on my shoulder, realized he’d touched me, probably feared I’d take that gesture to heart, and snatched his hand away so fast he could have dislocated a shoulder.
I’d wanted to crawl under the front tire and let him run me over.
And he wasn’t the only one measuring his words. I was terrified to speak in case he’d see just how deep this crush of mine ran.
This had to end. If we drove straight through today, we could get to the coast. We’d be one step closer to calling this trip a bust and going home.
The radio was on low and it crackled with static so I scanned for a new channel. The Cadillac had satellite radio and Bluetooth for my phone, but having to change stations every hundred miles was at least something to do. A twenty-second pardon from the stifling silence.
Cash recognized the song. Damn. I braced, waiting and . . .
The absentminded, piercing whistle hissed from between his teeth. I’d stopped hiding my cringe.
Not that he’d noticed. Cash was stoically staring down the road.
“How far is it to Heron Beach?” I
asked.
Cash entered it into his phone’s GPS. “About ten hours.”
Stupid quarter. Yesterday, the coin had led us backward. We’d gone south, but much too far east, exactly the opposite direction of where we’d needed to head. The universe was conspiring against me.
We were in Idaho again, having recrossed over from Washington. Last night, we’d stopped before dinner and checked into a hotel on the outskirts of Boise. Rather than force us together for an uncomfortable meal, I’d told Cash I was tired from a long day of driving. We’d picked up sandwiches and eaten alone in our respective rooms.
I’d tried calling Gemma but she hadn’t answered. Neither had Liddy or Carol. So I’d found a movie on TV and gone to bed early.
Why had I thought this trip would be more exciting? Sure, the countryside was pretty. There’d been one stretch of highway that had been so shrouded by trees, it was like we’d driven through a leafy, green tunnel. But besides the occasional gas station break, when we loaded up on sugar and junk food, the repetitive miles had begun to take their toll.
“How was your night?” Cash asked. His sunglasses were on, shielding his eyes.
“Fine. Yours?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Fine. Watched a game. Crashed early.”
What game? Who won? Did you sleep okay? All questions I’d have normally asked before I’d made things weird. Now I was worried that if he made me laugh, if he made me smile, the wall would crack and he’d see the truth shining through.
I don’t love Cash.
Even I wasn’t buying my own lies.
“I’ve been thinking,” I said, taking a deep breath. “When we get home, I’m going to start looking for my own place.”
“What?” Cash shifted and slid his sunglasses into his dark hair. His hazel eyes were so colorful this morning, honey swirled with chocolate and sage. Even with the Cadillac’s top up, sunlight bounced off the golden flecks.
I kept my eyes on the road and my hands glued to the wheel. There was no way I’d get through this if I was looking at those eyes. “You need your own space. So do I. The roommate thing worked for a while but it doesn’t really make sense. We’re adults. We can live alone.”
“Is this about Dany?”
“No.” Partly. When he did find a woman who’d come to his bed, I didn’t want to be on the other side of the house.
Cash put his sunglasses on and his bearded jaw ticked as he stared forward. Mile after mile. Minute after minute. His lack of response made my heart sink, beat after beat. Didn’t he care? Couldn’t he pretend or slightly object or act like he’d enjoyed having me as a roommate for the past five years?
Finally, he said, “Okay.”
Okay. Ouch. His rejection was worse than the time my mother had taken a pinch of my skin between her fingers and twisted it so hard that I’d dropped to my knees and vomited. Then she’d made me clean up my mess.
I fought the urge to cry by biting the inside of my cheek. It was a trick I’d learned early on in life. If I concentrated on my teeth, on how my flesh felt pinched tight between the molars, the tears would disappear.
Crying wouldn’t get me anywhere. If I cried, Cash would take pity on me and pity was far worse than any form of heartache.
This was only a change. A shift in—hopefully—the right direction. Some space from Cash and we’d find a normal routine again. We’d go back to being friends. He’d start dating. Maybe I would too. Though the idea of any other man held no appeal but . . . someday.
I wanted a family. My own family. Kids who’d run around on the ranch through the green grass in spring and pick wildflowers from the meadows. A dog who’d trail behind them, keeping watch. A husband who’d let me curl into his lap on cold winter afternoons and hold me while the snow fell.
That man wasn’t Cash. The sooner I stopped picturing his face in that dream, the sooner I could open my mind and heart to finding love.
“How long?” Cash asked.
“How long, what?” I glanced at him, then back at the road.
“How long have you been planning on moving out? Would you have told me?”
I frowned. “Of course I would have told you.”
“Like you told me about taking this trip.”
Score one, Cash. “Well, I’m telling you now.”
He crossed his arms, stared out the window. “Just like Kat. Keeping the world at arm’s length.”
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t trust any of us. You are part of our family, but there’s no trust.”
I shook my head. “What are you talking about? Where is this coming from?”
“How long have we known one another? You’ve never told me about Aria or Clara or Karson or Lou until this trip. Until I peppered you with questions and there wasn’t any place for you to go and avoid them.”
I sucked in a calming breath. Cash was just lashing out. I’d wanted him to be upset that I was moving out. Well, he was upset. He wasn’t wrong. The past was a topic I avoided at all costs, but he also wasn’t being fair. He had no idea what I’d undergone, and if I wanted to keep it locked away, that was my choice. “It’s not something I like to talk about.”
“That’s my point.”
My knuckles were nearly as white as the steering wheel. “I told you about the junkyard a long, long time ago.”
“No, you told Grandma and Mom. Not the same.”
Why would I want to tell him about the ugliest times in my life? Why would I want the man I’d been crushing on for years to see my dirty pieces? I’d been clinging to the hope that he’d see me as a sexy, appealing, available woman. Not a pathetic runt who’d once been given a stick of deodorant by Mr. Kline, her ninth-grade gym teacher, because she’d smelled and hadn’t been able to afford any herself.
Maybe the reason I’d opened up on this trip was because I’d finally given up hope. Cash wouldn’t see me as anything more than a friend, a sister, so why hide the truth?
“Can you blame me?” I asked. “Why would I want to talk about it?”
“Because we’re supposed to be friends. We’re supposed to confide in each other.”
“We are friends.”
Cash scoffed. “Then act like it, Katherine. Talk to me.”
“I am talking to you!” I threw up a hand. “I’m telling you right now that I want to move out. I need some space.”
“From me.”
“No.” Yes. “I just . . . need a change.”
“Okay.”
There was that word again, laced with sarcasm and disdain. I’d missed the nasty undertones the first time.
The silence returned. The radio was cutting in and out, but I didn’t bother changing the channel. My molars ground together. Cash’s nostrils flared.
What the hell did he have to be mad about? We were in our thirties. Wouldn’t he want a place to himself? Why keep a roommate when he didn’t need the financial support? And how dare he tell me that I didn’t confide in him.
“You’re one to talk about not confiding.”
“What?” He shot me a glare. “You know everything there is to know about me.”
“Do I? Then let’s talk about the ranch.”
“What about the ranch?”
“How do you really feel about the expansion?”
It had been Easton’s idea to create a state-of-the-art horse breeding and training facility. He’d bought the land for the expansion to the ranch, all the while planning on having Cash run it, but he’d never asked. He’d done it without consulting Cash, or anyone, first.
Cash was fairly easygoing. It took a lot to fluster him, but he was a proud man. He was a leader in his own right. And no one had asked if he even wanted to run the training facility. They just assumed that since he loved horses, since he had a gift with the animals, he’d follow suit.
“I’m excited for it.” Cash shrugged. “It’ll be great once we get it going. I’ll get to spend more time with the horses.”
“That’s not what I’m ask
ing. How do you feel about how it all came about?”
“You mean that East bought property without telling any of us?”
“Yes.”
“It’s fine.” Another shrug. “You know how it is with Dad and Granddad. They aren’t great at letting go. This was Easton’s power play. He wants to make his mark.”
He’d badgered me for not sharing my feelings, but he was doing the same. “But what about you?”
“What about me?”
“Easton should have talked to you. He should have told you what he was planning.”
“Maybe.”
My temper flared. “Maybe? Yes. He should have talked to you.”
“Okay, fine. He should have talked to me. But he didn’t.”
“Doesn’t that make you angry?”
“What do you want me to do about it, Kat? Get into it with Easton? He’s already fighting Dad and Granddad on the management stuff. I’m trying to tread lightly and just get the goddamn project done. Why does it matter when at the end of the day, I want to work with horses? This will make that happen.”
“But—”
“There’s no but. Yes, Easton of all people should know what it’s like to feel excluded. To be talked over and brushed aside. But I’ve known my entire life what it feels like to be in second place. I’m the second son. Causing a fight about it isn’t going to change that fact.”
It wasn’t fair. Cash shouldn’t be talked around. He shouldn’t be ignored. Didn’t he realize how talented he was? How smart?
Why was I angrier about this than he was? Maybe this wasn’t an issue for him. Maybe I’d misread the situation.
Or maybe I was picking a fight because moving out when we got home would be a lot easier if I was pissed at Cash first. If I was going to make him mad, I might as well go all in.
“Why do you let people decide how your life is going to go?” I regretted the question immediately.
Cash turned to stone.
My stomach plummeted. Now who wasn’t being fair? Cash didn’t let people dictate his life, but his family was packed full of strong personalities. They didn’t walk over him per se. He just didn’t battle.
I couldn’t remember a time when Cash argued with his parents or grandparents or Easton. Which was a good thing, except in a family where a Friday dinner wasn’t a Friday dinner without some sort of bickering. It had always struck me as off that Cash was rarely in the fray.
