I guess what I’m saying is that I can’t believe I’m this important to him. Really not sure what I’d do without him.
I’m so happy, diary. My life is good. Seriously. What could go wrong?
8
KANDY
I truly didn't know why I wanted Cane so badly. There was something about him—something that made the pit of my belly flutter with frenzied butterflies and my blood pump with fiery desire.
He was irresistible, and I loved that he didn't treat me like a child. I loved that he was always there for me. I loved when he teased me. I loved his gifts and his presence. Everything about him pushed me into hyperawareness.
His touch.
His smell.
His laugh.
Everything.
There was so much joy in my life and so many good things happening between him and my family, that I began to take most of it for granted. I hate that I did.
I had slept over Frankie's house for a girly sleepover. I normally did the sleepovers with her when Mom and Dad had to work late on the weekends.
We’d graduated three days ago and were ready to take on the world. It was funny—in school, we didn't care too much about popularity or fitting in. At the end of the day, we were our own crazy duo, and we loved it.
I will admit that Frankie was boy crazy. She had a new boyfriend every month. If I thought I was a rebel, she put me to shame. She'd dyed her hair a bright green, even when her mother had told her not to. She didn't have a father figure in her life, and her mom traveled for work often, which may have played a big role in why she wasn't very disciplined. She grew up spending a lot of time on her own, had set her own routine. She was smart and sweet when she wanted to be (had to be with a full-ride scholarship to University of North Carolina), and she loved her mother to death but, well, most of the time, Frankie just didn't give a fuck.
I opened my MacBook, going to YouTube to watch a new music video by Laura Welsh. “I still can’t believe he bought you that expensive-ass Mac!” Frankie flopped down beside me, belly flat on her twin-sized bed.
I looked over at her. Her dark brown, almond-shaped eyes were pinned on the screen, the naturally tanned skin on her face covered with a green organic facemask.
"It was a gift,” I laughed.
"Well, next time he’s feeling gifty, tell him to buy me one too!" She bumped my arm.
“Have you asked your mom for one?”
She gave me a dull glare. “You know my Mom isn’t going to buy a damn Mac, K.J."
She had a point. Her mom ran a popular traveling and food blog and had articles featured in magazines and popular websites. Didn’t matter that her mother made thousands monthly, she was still deep-rooted and refused to drop big bucks on expensive devices for an eighteen-year-old.
Frankie was the only person to call me K.J. She'd been calling me that ever since fifth grade. She claimed she didn't like the name Kandy, because it was too sweet for my bitchy personality, so K.J. it was.
“How did Cane make it to your graduation anyway?” she asked. “You never filled me in about that.”
I stopped scrolling, crisscrossing my legs and sliding the laptop back a bit. Frankie sat up with me.
"I don’t know. He might have wrapped up early on what he was doing or had someone else handle it.” I shrugged.
“I think he’s fucking into you,” she guffawed. “Why else would he just magically show up? Graduations are important, yeah, but business is business.”
I rolled my eyes, fighting a smile. "He was being nice, Frank. He told me he wouldn’t have missed it for the world. He ate dinner with us, didn’t rush the evening or act like he had to be somewhere. He wanted to be there for all of us.” I said that, but deep down, I felt he was really there to make me happy more than anyone else.
"You should have told him to kiss you. A graduation kiss. Totally harmless.” Her tone was nonchalant as she shrugged and then climbed off the bed. She walked to her bathroom and turned on the faucet.
"You are crazy!" I busted out laughing, climbing off the bed and following her, pressing a hand to the frame of the door. "Ever since that night, it’s worse, though. No matter what I do, I can't get him out of my head, Frank. It's been like this ever since I was a little girl. I've always been attracted to him. It's fucking weird because he's supposed to be, like, family to me."
"He's sex on a stick, K.J. He's super successful and handsome and he gives you chocolate and notebooks. It’s also hot as fuck when a guy shows up unannounced. That is any woman's dream. There's nothing weird about liking someone like him."
Hmm…yeah. When she put it that way…
Someone pounded on the door and Frank turned quickly when her brother, Clay, barged in. Clay was tall, well-built, and shirtless. His blond hair was damp, like he'd just gotten out of the shower. If Clay wasn't such an asshole and always grabbing his crotch to show off, I would have found him hot.
He wasn't really Frankie's brother. They had been adopted siblings since she was six and he was eight. She was the adoptee.
"Where the hell is the charger for my Beats Pill, Frank?" Clay snapped, tossing her pillows off the bed. He turned for the stuffed animals on her recliner next, snatching them up and throwing them on the floor.
"I don't have your stupid charger, Clay, now get the hell out of my room!"
"You do have it! I know you do. It goes missing every time I have a girl over, and then it magically appears the next morning. I know you keep taking it!”
Frankie marched his way, pressing her hands to his chest and shoving him backwards until he was out of the door, slamming it in his face right after. Of course, she struggled—she was half his size—but she managed. I could tell she'd done this way too many times before. They always fought and bickered. It was hilarious sometimes.
I broke out in laughter. "You guys are nuts, you know that?"
She locked the door and rolled her eyes, huffing as she went back to the bathroom to finish washing her face.
While she did, I sat in the middle of her bed and busied myself with my laptop again. A whisper crossed my mind, and I went to the browser to type in Quinton Cane. The first page to show up was Tempt's website, so I clicked it.
There were many pictures of new wines, more awards the company had won, and even Instagram images of people eating the chocolate, but then one image appeared as I scrolled further down and it stopped me.
It was Cane, holding one of his bottles of wine in the air. It was typical Quinton Cane fashion not to smile for a picture, but nonetheless he still looked breathtakingly amazing. He wore a navy blue suit with a silver tie. His beard was trimmed neatly, the lengthier part of his tapered hair combed in perfect, smooth waves.
He looked so handsome.
A sprinkle of the caveman mentality and a dash of gentleman.
The look fit him well.
I clicked through more pictures as Frankie ranted on about how annoying Clay had been lately, and how she had to break it off with a guy because Clay kept threatening him.
Her voice was mostly a buzz while I scrolled though. I was stuck on stalking Cane, loving how clean and handsome he looked in suits. Loving the times he rarely smiled, and how he took photos with his employees, like he truly cared and appreciated them. I’d witnessed his love for his employees. It was genuine.
Later on that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I kept going through my phone, scrolling to his name listed in my contacts.
"I'm only a phone call away if you ever need me, little one."
I knew he’d answer, and I had the urge to call, especially when Frankie fell asleep with reruns of the Kardashians on…but I didn't do it.
I wasn't that bold. Plus, what was I going to talk to him about? My pajamas?
9
KANDY
Around 3:00 a.m. in morning, there was a buzz beside my head. My phone was ringing. Foggy-minded and bleary-eyed, I picked it up with a groan. Mom’s name and our favorite selfie was on the screen.<
br />
"Mom?" My voice was thick with sleep as I answered.
"Kandy, honey?" I was so tired I didn't even realize her voice was laced with worry and heavy with emotion. "Baby, I need you to wake up and listen to me."
I rolled onto my back, running a hand over my face. "What's going on?"
"Y-your father has been shot."
With those words alone, my back was off the bed, the fogginess clearing and the bleariness vanishing.
"What! Shot? How?"
"It was while he was on duty. H-he's being taken to the hospital. One bullet hit his thigh and the other pierced his neck. They said he bled a lot. I'm on my way to the hospital right now so I can't get you, but I called Cane. He's on his way to pick you up. Just be calm and stay with him, okay?"
"Okay. I'll get ready.” I climbed off the futon, and Frankie groaned, popping one eye open to glare at me. She pushed up on one elbow and rubbed her eyes. "Dude, what the hell are you doing?"
I grabbed my sweatpants and tugged them on with haste, snatching up my bag next. "That was my mom. She said my dad was just shot on duty."
"Oh, shit!" Her eyes stretched wider. She climbed off the bed too. "Is he okay?"
"I-I don't know. She said one bullet hit his thigh and the other pierced his neck. She sounded worried." I don't know how I was still so calm. My heart was pounding now, beating like a drum in my chest. My chest felt like it’d been crushed by the foot of an elephant and all oxygen seemed to have been sucked from my lungs. Still, I kept moving.
My phone vibrated in hand. I looked at the screen, and it was Cane calling. I rushed to the window and saw his black Chrysler parked at the curb.
"I'll come back for my things later," I told her.
"Yeah, babe. It's fine. Go," she insisted, watching me rush to her door. I hurried down the hall and hustled down the stairs, swinging the front door open to get outside.
I don't remember if I closed it behind me or not. I just remember Cane standing by the passenger door of his car, holding the door open for me, his face pale, and eyes wide with worry. I’d never seen him that way.
I jumped in and the door was immediately shut.
He was behind the wheel before I could even give myself a moment to take a deep breath. He pulled off, gripping his face with his free hand and dragging his palm down.
"Damn it," he hissed beneath his breath.
"Why are you driving so slow?" I frowned at him and then checked his speedometer. The speed limit was 45, but he was going 35.
He kept quiet, not looking my way.
"Cane!" I shouted. "Hurry and get me to the hospital! I need to make sure my dad is okay!"
He stopped at a light.
"Drive through the light! This is an emergency, and he's a cop! If you get pulled over you can tell them who my dad is! I know most of the cops here! Just go!" The tears were like fire in my eyes as I tried to fight them off.
I wasn't in the mood for his asshole-ish ways that night. I wasn't in the mood to pretend-argue, or bicker, or do anything fun and exhilarating with him right now. I just wanted to be with my dad.
He was shot twice. He needed me right now. His only child. His little girl.
"I'm not taking you to the hospital, Kandy. Your mother told me not to."
"What?" I snapped. "Why the hell not? I deserve to be there! He's my dad—"
"Which is exactly why you shouldn't go," he stated, voice harsh. "He’s already at the hospital and going straight into surgery. You’d just be sitting there. Your mother has to be there for him when he makes it out.” He let out a tight breath. “You'll wait at my place until we hear from her. She wants you with her, trust me, but she knows you’ll be better off waiting outside the hospital. I’ll take you there as soon as I get the say-so.”
I scoffed, blazing hot tears sliding down my cheeks. "This is so fucking stupid. I want to be there with him!"
Cane kept driving, not even responding, and when he went past the exit to get to the hospital, I wanted to fucking wail. I bit hard on my bottom lip until I tasted blood. The tears continued falling, landing in my lap, my heart still drumming.
"You can hate me and be mad at me all you want, Kandy. I'm doing what's best for you right now," he murmured.
"You don't even know me. How could you possibly know what's best for me?"
"I know more about you than you think I do."
The speed of his car decreased, and he took a left turn, pulling into a gated community. He said something to the security guard at the box, something I didn't bother listening to, and the gates drew apart.
He drove until we reached a creamy white home with a black roof. Gold lights illuminated the exterior of the house, as well as the trimmed rose bushes in the front. If I hadn’t been so distressed, I would have admired how elegant it was, but in that moment, I didn't care about any of it. I didn't care that I was being selfish. I didn't even care about the fact that Cane and I were alone again. I needed to be with my father.
Cane killed the engine of the car. "Coming?" he asked softly.
"No."
He breathed heavily through his nostrils. "You can't sit out here all night, Kandy.” He was agitated now. I didn’t care.
"Then take me to the hospital! I don't care what she wants! I don’t care if I have to sit there all night! This is what I want!"
"You know I can't do that."
"Well screw you, then," I snapped.
"Are you fucking kidding me?” he bellowed, like he was truly fed up. “Derek wouldn't want you there, Kandy! Your mother told me to keep you here with me, so stop being a fucking brat, get out of the goddamn car, and come into the house already!"
My eyes stretched wide as I turned my head to focus on him. He'd never spoken to me this way before. Yes, he was arrogant, and yes, he cursed often, but not at me. Not like this.
Frustrated and honestly embarrassed, I gripped the door handle and pushed out of the car, rushing for his front door with the same stupid tears still burning the rims of my eyes. I refused to cry in front of him right now.
He followed right behind me, unlocking the door and opening it.
Pressing a hand on my shoulder, he ushered me inside his home, but I jerked away, still burning with fury. He pulled his hand back, nodding slightly, and led me down the corridor and into the living room.
Creamy leather furniture was set up inside, the room neat and hardly worn-in, set up like a home out of an interior design magazine. The electric fireplace was burning, and a glass with ice in it was on the coffee table, along with some papers, like he'd been sitting in this very room when he got the call and had dropped everything to come get me.
"Sit, Kandy. Please." He extended an arm, gesturing to the biggest sofa. I noticed his voice was softer, like he felt bad about his sudden outburst in the car. But Cane wouldn't apologize. Not for speaking his mind and telling the truth.
I avoided his eyes, walking past him and sitting down. I kicked off my shoes and drew my knees to my chest, resting my forehead on them.
I tried to fight the wave of emotion that shook me, but it was impossible. I couldn’t bite back the tears anymore. My body shuddered. The tears clogged and thickened in my throat. The saltiness finally ran over my lips.
The whimpers and cries I'd made that night, just thinking about my dad in pain, were foreign noises. I'd never heard myself cry like this before. So hard. So desperately.
"Damn it, Kandy." The couch dipped beside me, and a hand ran through my hair. "He'll be okay. Stop crying. You know he wouldn't want you crying."
"I don't care what he wants right now," I sobbed. "I just want to see him. I want to know he's okay."
Cane's fingers stroked the back of my neck, the pads of them feathery-light and caressing my skin. "He'll be okay."
His touch electrocuted me, awakening my soul, even through the thick layers of emotion. I picked my head up and looked over my shoulder at him, tears clinging to my lashes. "You don't know that," I whispered.
"Yes,
I do." His eyes latched with mine. He sighed softly, like he wanted to say more to make me feel better. He obviously didn't have much else to say because he clamped his mouth shut instead and pulled away, standing up. "Can I get you something to drink?"
I shook my head.
"Then I'll go make one for myself. Let me know if you change your mind." He walked away, glancing back once at me. I dropped my chin on top of my knees, staring ahead into nothingness.
All I could think about was my daddy. What if he didn’t make it out of the hospital alive? What if he’d bled out on the way there?
I could picture Mom's reaction when they told her the bad news. She'd bawl and break down—fall to her knees and weep into her palms. I prayed he would pull through.
I was pissed off, but I knew they were right. They were so right. I wouldn't have been able to handle waiting at the hospital. Every ticking second would have felt like centuries. Plus, I hated hospitals. I didn't like being surrounded by pain and misery.
The sound of ice clanking in a glass a short distance away pulled me from my trance, and I heard Cane talking.
"Yeah, I picked her up already. It's fine. She can crash here for as long as you need her to." He was talking to Mom.
Cane stepped around the corner moments later. He sat beside me again with a short tumbler in hand and a half-empty decanter of amber liquid in the other. He placed the decanter down on the coffee table and then swirled the ice in his cup, causing it to rattle in the glass.
After taking a small sip, he let out a long, weary sigh. "He'll be okay," I heard him say. It seemed he was trying to convince himself as much as me.
I looked up at him, a sudden thought crossing my mind that escaped me vocally before I could stop it. "You love my dad?" I asked, but it was a juvenile question. Men like Cane didn't tell other men he loved them, even if it were true. It was just…not in his nature, I supposed.
Wanting Mr. Cane Page 5
