Beautifully Broken Control

by Catherine Cowles

  The life I’d built in Sutter Lake was my first taste of freedom. I didn’t want to lose that, couldn’t. But I didn’t want to lose Cain either. I took a slow, steadying breath and released my death grip on the granite. He had to talk to me. Let me in. At least, tell me why a damn cake had sent him running, and my heart breaking.

  My heart hammered in my chest as I headed for the bedroom. Walking inside, I could hear the shower running. Good. Maybe that would cool Cain off, calm him down, help him to see reason. He couldn’t lock some huge part of himself away from me and expect us to build a life together. It would be impossible.

  I lowered myself to the bed, facing the bathroom door. I could wait. I twisted the hem of Cain’s t-shirt I wore, rubbing the soft cotton between my thumb and finger. The shower continued to run. I released my hold on the tee and studied the room around me.

  Cain’s house was beautiful, but it had a coldness to it. There were no personal touches. No photos, keepsakes, or art that seemed to mean anything to him. If you walked through this house, you’d learn nothing about the man who lived in it. But that’s exactly how he liked it. He kept everyone at arm’s length, including me.

  My gaze swept over his nightstand, catching on the drawer that was slightly ajar. A pop of color had caught my attention. Snagged it because the rest of the house was all muted tones. Grays and blues, greens, and shades of white.

  I pulled the drawer open an inch. Glossy paper. A photo. My fingers moved without my mind agreeing to it. It was one of the most beautiful young women I’d ever seen. Glossy, dark hair, flawless, tanned skin, a smile that you knew would light up a room, and eyes that I knew almost as well as my own. Irises so dark blue, you’d practically think them brown.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  I jolted at Cain’s voice. I’d never heard it sound fiercer, holding tightly to rage beneath the surface. “I’m sorry. I-I-I just. The drawer was open, and I saw a photo. I grabbed it before I really thought it through. I’m so sorry.”

  Cain’s bare chest heaved. He wore only low-slung sweats, ones that had been my favorites until this moment. The way he studied me, analyzed every micro-expression my face made, said he didn’t trust me one bit. It was another slice to my already shredded chest. “You were fucking snooping. I open up my home to you, and you betray that?”

  I pushed to my feet, my hands trembling as I laid the photo on the bed. Cain did not get to pull this on me. I was not going to let him twist this into something it wasn’t. Twist me into something I wasn’t. For the last two and a half years, I’d let the world paint me into a monster. I’d never defended myself. I’d allowed my own brother to twist my motives, my soul, into something ugly. I hadn’t wanted to let anyone close enough to feel that betrayal again, but I had. And I wasn’t going to allow Cain to get away with doing what Preston had. I was done letting the world decide who I was.

  “You don’t get to pull that card, Cain. I wasn’t tearing apart your room, trying to uncover your secrets. But maybe I should because you won’t tell me anything. I never know what’s okay to ask you about. I made you a fucking cake that I was so proud of, and you looked like I handed you a live grenade. Why?” My heart hammered against my ribs as I waited. Cain said nothing. Silence had never hurt so much. Tears stung the backs of my eyes, but I forced them down. “I’ve laid myself bare for you, and you won’t tell me a single personal thing about your past. Do you know how that feels?”

  Cain’s eyes blazed now. A deadly, blue heat. “What do you want to know?” He growled the words low, just as dangerous as the fire in his eyes. “That my mom was always drunk? That I took care of my sister from the time I was five?” My heart seized as I pictured tiny Cain trying to care for a miniature version of the girl in that photo.

  “That I left her because I had this great opportunity to go to college, and while I was gone, my mom got hooked on oxy. That her dealer broke into our house when my mom wasn’t home and decided to take his payment by raping my sister? Or maybe that when she wouldn’t stop screaming, he strangled her? Is that what you want to know?” He spun around, reaching for the decorative ceramic bowl on the dresser, a piece in those same muted tones as the rest of the house, and hurled it at the wall, shattering it into a million pieces. “Fuck!”

  I didn’t even flinch when the bowl hit. Didn’t twitch at Cain’s shouted curse. I was numb. His sister. Oh, God. His sister. Cain. My gaze met his, and it was ravaged. I thought I’d known what guilt felt like. I knew nothing. “Cain.” His name was a cross between a whisper and a prayer, maybe it was a plea.

  “Get out.” His body trembled as he released the words. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

  That had me jerking. “What?”

  “I’m getting some air. When I get back, I want you gone.” He strode right out the door. Didn’t glance at the destruction he’d created, didn’t look at the wreckage in his wake. Just left.

  My body shook as I tried to get it to move. It took a couple of tries. Finally, my limbs obeyed my brain. I pulled out my phone.

  Me: Can you come pick me up at Cain’s?

  I had a response within seconds.

  Jensen: Sure thing. Now?

  Jensen: Wait, is everything okay?

  I wasn’t sure everything would ever be okay again. Not for me. And definitely not for Cain. He’d let that pain fester, and it had turned septic. It was eating him alive from the inside out.

  Me: I’ll explain when you get here. I’ll be by the gate.

  The last thing I needed was to be accused of giving out gate codes to Cain’s house. Not that it mattered. I was sure he’d change all the security as soon as I was gone. I wasn’t trustworthy, after all.

  Jensen: On my way.

  I let out a shaky breath and hurried to stuff my belongings into the two duffle bags I had. Jensen. A place to live. A job. Chuck. I paused, trying to think of one more gratitude. I let out a choked sob. “I’m alive.”

  I glanced down at the photo on the bed. I was alive, and the beautiful girl in that photo…her life had been cut short in the worst way imaginable. In that moment, I would’ve traded my life for hers. I would’ve done anything to protect Cain from the pain he was feeling now. But I couldn’t. And he wouldn’t let me help him bear it.

  I slung a duffle over each shoulder and headed for the living room. Chuck snored away on the couch. His deafness finally came in handy. That scene in Cain’s bedroom would’ve scared him. I hooked the leash onto his collar and scratched his ears. “Come on, buddy.”

  Chuck’s eyes flew open, and he took in my face. Like always, he immediately knew something was wrong. He lapped at my cheek. I picked him up and sat him on the floor. “I’ve still got you. You and me against the world.”

  I headed for the door. My heart lurched as I reached for the handle. The tears I’d been holding at bay finally spilled over. This was it. I glanced over my shoulder, through that wall of glass, to the lake. The man that would probably always hold my heart stood on the dock, hands in his pockets, staring out at the water as if it held all the answers in the world.

  He looked so very alone. My chest spasmed again. I wanted to run to him. To throw my arms around him and refuse to let go, no matter what ugly accusations he hurled at me. But I couldn’t. I had to save myself first. Even if it meant that my heart would never be whole again.

  38

  Cain

  I watched the water ripple and flow. I was jealous of it. How no matter what was thrown its way, it stayed intact. It simply changed shape, form to adapt, but it always returned to its rightful resting place.

  I couldn’t roll with whatever life threw at me that way. No. I bent, broke, shattered. Just like that bowl I’d thrown at the wall. Tiny, irreparable pieces lying on the floor.

  “Fuck.” I’d thrown a bowl at the wall. I’d done that. It had been nowhere near Kennedy, but I’d still probably scared her. And then I’d left her, told her to get out, with no way of doing so. I was scum.

  I tu
rned and strode back to the house. I couldn’t be with her, that much was clear, but I could make sure she got back to town safely. To her life. Without me.

  Just the thought had my chest seizing. A life where someone safe, like fucking Doug, would come along and scoop her up. Someone who didn’t have demons. Someone who didn’t lose their shit because she’d simply looked at a photo.

  I looked up at the house as I climbed the stairs. I deserved the emptiness that awaited me. Beautiful, empty rooms. No soul. A home that would remind me every day how empty my life had become and whose fault that was.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out.

  Jensen: Not sure you give a shit, but I picked Kennedy up.

  The cavity around my heart spasmed. Pain and relief all at once. She was gone. And she’d never come back. It was how things needed to be. For her protection, and mine. The safest thing for us both, even if it was the thing that would rip away my last shot at feeling again.

  Me: Thank you.

  I paused for a moment, couldn’t help needing to know more.

  Me: Is she okay? Where is she staying?

  I knew Jensen would take care of her, but I needed the details. The things that would hopefully help ease the painful vise on my chest. The invisible beast that liked to steal my breath and send my mind spiraling.

  Jensen: No. She’s not. And I should let you stew and wonder, but even though you’re a total dipshit moron, I love you, too. The Kettle was cleared to reopen, so she’s back in her place.

  I needed to call Walker and Tuck, see what they’d found out about the gas leak. Make sure everything was fixed. My hands cramped as I realized I had no excuse to make sure Kennedy was safe. I couldn’t give her rides or drop by her work or go with her to the shelter. She was going to be alone.

  I couldn’t seem to fill my lungs fully as I ran back outside and around the side of my house. She’d taken the damn bike. Of course, she’d known where it was all along. She’d been humoring me. Letting me protect her because she knew it eased something in me. But that was done, over.

  I opened and closed my fists, trying to get blood to flow there, trying to urge the muscles to release. My breaths came quicker, and the cramping only got worse. No. I wasn’t going to give in to this again. Wasn’t going to let that invisible beast control my life. Dr. Murphy called it anxiety, PTSD, but I knew the truth, it was a monster. One that would destroy everything.

  She’s safe. Everything is fine. I repeated the words over and over in my mind until my heart rate began to slow, my breaths becoming more even. The world around me came back into focus. But I knew that at least half of what I’d chanted over and over was a bald-faced lie. Things sure as hell weren’t fine. They probably never would be again.

  I’d lost half my heart when Kiara was killed, and I was fairly certain Kennedy had taken the other half when she walked out that door. I’d just have to figure out how to exist without it. I didn’t want it back. I wanted it where it belonged. With Kenz.

  My phone buzzed again in my pocket. At least, I’d put it back in there and not dropped it on the cement in my panic. I pulled it out, expecting to see Jensen’s name and maybe some more of her colorful cursing. But it wasn’t. It was an alert.

  My dummy program. My brows furrowed. It had to be an error. A glitch in the code. I tapped on the notification, quickly scanning through the text. My gut twisted. Jake. The program I’d sent to Jake had been uploaded to a computer outside of our network yesterday, one hour after I’d sent it to him.

  Blood pounded in my ears. None of this made sense. Unless…my mind circled back to the encounter with Rachel. There’d been something in her eyes that’d told me she was hiding something. I’d just assumed it was the extent of the damage she’d done to Halo. Or maybe that she’d been embezzling, and we just hadn’t caught it yet. But what if all of it was a lie?

  An image of the pain that shone in Rachel’s eyes flashed in my mind. I’d hurt her, and if there was one thing I knew about Rachel, it was that she had a vindictive streak. I’d seen it more than once in her decade working for me, but it had always been to my advantage. Now, it had been turned against me. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that, after the other day, she would’ve sold anything she could get her hands on to my competitors. She would’ve done anything she could to cause me pain.

  I hit the contacts icon on my phone and dialed Jake. “You’ve reached Jake. Leave a message.” That twisting in my gut intensified. Rachel hadn’t sold a damn thing. She’d lied to hurt me, knowing I counted on her and Jake most of all, maybe hoping it would give the real culprit a chance to cause more damage.

  It had been Jake all along, and I’d given him a head start by coming clean to him earlier. I hit another number on my phone. Two rings, and someone picked up.

  “Dante.”

  “It’s Cain.” I hoped he was in the country and could drop everything to hunt down the son of a bitch who’d thrown away everything I’d ever given him, who was so greedy that the millions I’d paid him over the years weren’t enough. “I need your help.”

  Dante, always on alert, always ready for what a client might lay at his feet, said only one word. “Talk.”

  I filled my PI in. I’d used Dante on various things over the years. While we hadn’t opened up and shared life stories, which would be difficult given the fact that the man barely talked, I knew he always got the job done. “I need you to find him. I’m filing charges. I want that fucker in jail.” I sucked in a breath. “He’ll go low-tech. He knows I can track him if he touches his bank accounts or credit cards. My guess is car travel and cash.”

  Dante grunted. “I’m on it.” He said nothing else. Simply hung up.

  My feet automatically began moving me back to the dock, to the water, the one bit of peace I had left. All I’d ever have. It would have to be enough.

  39

  Kennedy

  “All right, it’s time for wine.” Jensen hurried past me and pulled open the fridge door, pawing through its contents until she found what she was looking for and emerged with a bottle. “You get the glasses.”

  The pouring of wine meant I was no longer off the hook. We’d spent the day readying the Kettle to open again. I’d helped J prep dough for tomorrow’s baked goods, sorted teas, and wiped down tables. She hadn’t asked one question, just let me sort through my feelings in silence.

  Except I wasn’t sorting. I couldn’t. Because I was numb. It was as if everything inside me had simply turned off. It was a self-protection mechanism. Because if I let myself really feel the depth of losing Cain, I worried I’d fall into a pit that would be impossible to climb out of.

  I pulled two glasses from a shelf. They were designed for juice, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Jensen inclined her head to the front of the shop. “Come on.” She led me towards the two overstuffed chairs in the back corner. I set the glasses down, and she gave us both a healthy pour. “Hit me with it.”

  I settled into the chair, slipping off my shoes and pulling my knees up to my chest. I needed the comfort. The points of contact. The pressure to hold me together. “I don’t really know.” Jensen simply arched a brow at me. “He wouldn’t talk about his past. All he’d say was that he lost someone. It was clear he was hurting. There’s so much pain in him, J.”

  She nodded, concern flashing in her amber eyes.

  I studied her face. “You know.”

  J took a sip of her wine. “Only the broad strokes. That he lost his sister in an incredibly violent way. That he takes it on himself. Takes responsibility for everything. It’s why he was so overprotective of you.”

  “I’m getting that.” I twisted the glass of wine in a circular pattern on the table between us. “Him keeping something from me, something that I knew was hurting him, was hard for me. I told him everything. About my family. My shame. I laid it all at his feet, but he couldn’t trust me to let me in even a little.”

  “I don’t think it’s about trust, Kenz. It’s just to
o painful for him to go there. I don’t know a lot about that time in his life, but I overheard Walker talking to my dad one night when he was home from college for a weekend. Cain lost it when he found out. Took a swing at a cop. He was admitted to the hospital on an involuntary hold.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath. Images of my beautiful, strong, kind Cain, restrained. Sedated. Those invisible claws dug deeper into my chest. I could only imagine how alone he’d felt. I wanted to wrap my arms around the image in my head. “I hate this for him. All of it. I’d do anything to take it all away.” I swallowed, tears brimming in my eyes. “But I also can’t walk on eggshells for the rest of my life, wondering what random thing might set him off.”

  Jensen’s brows pulled together. “What happened?”

  I told her about the cake, now realizing it must have somehow reminded him of his sister, then about going into the bedroom, finding the photo. “I wasn’t trying to snoop. I swear. I just—there aren’t any photos in his house. So, when I saw that one…”

  “You were naturally curious. I get it. Kenz, you were pretty much living there, I don’t think you’re evil for looking at a photo that was sticking out of a drawer.”

  But guilt churned in my stomach, its choppy waves making me feel just a bit nauseous. “But I invaded his privacy. I get him being mad. I do. The thing that absolutely kills…” A burn started up in the back of my throat. I swallowed it down. “I was starting to feel like we were a team, like maybe, just maybe, I could build that family I’d always wanted. But in that moment, I was on the outside looking in. We weren’t a team anymore. I was the enemy.” My breath hitched. “I don’t think anything has ever hurt that much, not even losing my brother.”