Hard Edge

by Tess Oliver

  Aside from the wild tattoos, my mom wasn’t telling me anything new. I hadn’t really seen or spoken to Caden in years, but Grady had kept me up on everything. I’d known that Caden had survived some tough years in combat, coming out mostly unscathed or at least physically unhurt, only to nearly lose his leg with a compound fracture of the femur. After that, he just never seemed to find his place in the world.

  “I’m sure Caden wouldn’t think so, but with what’s happened, maybe it was for the best that his career in racing ended early,” Mom added. “Do you think you could take the lasagna over this morning? It’s my day to drop off a meal, but I’ve got too much happening on the stove. And I know they’d like to see you.”

  My stomach churned with nerves at the notion of walking into a house where everyone was in full shock and grief, a house filled with people who I knew well but who I hadn’t seen or spoken to in a long time. I had absolutely no idea what to say to any of them . . . especially Caden.

  “If it will help you out, Mom, then I’ll walk over there. I won’t stay long though. I’m sure they aren’t in the mood for visitors. Besides, I won’t be much help. I’m not completely sure I’ll be able to hold it together.”

  “Oh, Kenny.” Mom’s voice wavered again as she hugged me. “Life can change so drastically overnight. I’m so glad you’re home right now. I miss you. I wish you weren’t living so far away. When you get back from delivering the food, I’ll take a coffee break and you can tell me all about school and how Jeremy is doing. Oh, and I bought a few bridal magazines. I thought we could browse through them.”

  “Mom, I don’t think I’ll be in the mood to look at wedding ideas.”

  She waved her hand. “You’re right. How callous of me. We can look at those another time. I’ll get the lasagna.” She walked to the refrigerator.

  I hadn’t clued my mom in on my shaky relationship with Jeremy, but I could save that for later. It was the last thing I needed or wanted to think about.

  “It’s cool to the touch now, so it’ll be easy to carry,” Mom said as she pulled the foil pan out. “Tell Sally that this container is freezer ready. In case they don’t want to eat it right away.” Mom sighed as she handed it to me. “I just don’t know how they’ll get through this. Can’t even imagine.” Her voice broke up as it had a hundred times since I’d gotten home.

  “Don’t, Mom, I don’t want to walk over there sobbing and sniffling. It’s the last thing they need.” I took hold of the pan. “I’m going to get going before I lose my nerve.”

  “I’m sorry, you’re right. And don’t forget to tell her it will keep just fine in the freezer,” she called to me as I walked out the door with the heavy casserole dish. She wanted me to talk to a woman who’d just lost her son about freezing lasagna. Sometimes it seemed my mom spent too much time in sugar-saturated vapors.

  It was strange how being back under my parents’ roof hurled me back in time. I had a quick moment of nostalgia as I imagined myself fifteen again, carrying a casserole over to the Strattons for the summer block party. I looked both ways before crossing, an old habit and one that I’d gotten scolded about ignoring more than once. It was a quiet, residential street that was shaded with old trees and rarely saw traffic. Growing up, it had been the perfect street for an impromptu soccer game. Sometimes other kids from the street would join us, but most of the time, it was just Grady and me in a match against Caden. Both Grady and I were athletic, but, even together, our skills couldn’t hold up to his brother. Caden just had the whole package, speed, strength, balance and a keen sense of when to strike. He could have been a star varsity athlete in high school if he’d wanted it. But organized sports just didn’t hold his interest. Caden liked fast motors and speed and anything that could set your hair on fire, metaphorically speaking. I wondered if Grady’s death behind the wheel of a car would change that. Or maybe Caden had slowed down anyhow. His broken leg must surely have put a dent in his enthusiasm for racing.

  I stepped onto the brick path that led to the Stratton house. After all these years, the same brick, just below the first step, was still missing. Weeds had grown in to take its place. I reached the front door. It had been painted with a new coat of blue, but everything else about the front stoop was familiar. Again, I was temporarily transported back in time and I was standing on the front stoop waiting for Grady to go on a bike ride to the park. But then the cold grip of reality squeezed my chest.

  I worked up the courage to knock.

  The door swung open before my knuckles touched it. Grady’s dad, Kevin, looked up over the rim of his eyeglasses. His eyes were puffy and small and nothing like the bright eyes I remembered. It was as if someone had washed the life and spirit from them.

  A woman stepped into the entry behind him. She was an aunt who I’d met several times at holidays, Sally’s older sister, Bev. Grady’s mom, Sally, followed behind Aunt Bev, looking pale, drawn and slightly dazed as if she’d been taking something to ease the pain.

  “Kenna, I didn’t recognize you.” Grady’s dad took hold of the casserole dish.

  “My mom said you can freeze it,” I blurted quickly to fill in the gap in conversation.

  “Kenna? Kenna Ridley from across the street, right? This is so kind,” Aunt Bev said as she stepped quickly forward to take the casserole from his hands. “We’re just on our way out to finalize arrange—” Her voice broke off. “I’ll just put this in the refrigerator.” She walked off with the lasagna, leaving me alone in the small entry with Grady’s mom and dad, two people who I’d been close to growing up. I couldn’t think of one word to say to them. What was there to say? Sorry was just a pathetic, two syllable word that did no justice when two people had just had their hearts and lives ripped to shreds.

  The silence was not tense or awkward. It was raw and real. Even the close set walls of their small entry seemed to be aching with the pain of it. My throat tightened as if someone had tied a rope around it. Sally had a hard time not swaying on her feet as she lifted her arms to me. I walked to her, my tears flowing like rivers before I covered the three feet of floor space.

  We held each other for a long time. Dozens of memories dashed through my mind, like Grady and I sitting in the kitchen taste testing Sally’s cookies, or the familiar, lemony aroma of her perfume when she’d lean over us to help with a jigsaw puzzle. Sally was always smiling, always in a good mood, but I doubted she would ever be that carefree and happy again.

  I sniffled and turned to hug Grady’s dad too. He felt more solid, more steady on his feet than his wife, but he wasn’t anywhere near to the big shouldered man with the booming laugh I remembered. He was a thick, strong man, but he seemed hollow and breakable as I held him.

  Aunt Bev had returned with a bundle of tissue in her fingers. I took some and wiped my eyes. “If there’s anything you need, just let us know.” It was the only sentence I could get out without breaking into sobs.

  “Actually, there is one thing you could do.” Aunt Bev spoke gently. It seemed she’d had to take over and make sure things moved along during a time when her sister and brother-in-law were too overwhelmed with grief to make decisions. “Caden left several hours ago. We had planned to take him with us, but we’ll miss our appointment if we wait for him.”

  Grady’s dad took hold of my arm and patted my hand. “Cade is taking this very hard. You’re the one person who might be able to give him some comfort.”

  “Me?” I shook my head.

  “I know Grady and you were close, but you were always very important to Caden. More than he let on, I think. He mentioned he was going to the park. He complained the walls of the house were closing in on him. I walked down to the park but didn’t see him anywhere. He wasn’t at his mom’s either, but his truck is still parked out front.”

  “I think I know where to find him. I’ll go right now.”

  He squeezed my hand.
“Thank you, Kenna.”

  “We need to get going.” Aunt Bev ushered them toward the door, and I followed them out. They all shuffled to the car as if there were weights on their feet. I watched them drive off and then turned in the direction of the park.

  I headed along the sidewalk and thought about how many times Grady and I had ridden our bikes on the very same path. Caden was older by two years and had plenty of friends but whenever he was around, he’d hang out with us. He spent a lot of that time teasing me, even making up the nickname, Trinket, because I was so small in junior high. Even after I’d stretched up tall in high school, he still called me Trinket. He never seemed to tire of teasing me. And I had never minded because when it came to Caden Stratton, any attention had been treasured.

  Other than two small kids and their mom sitting under a tree tossing a ball around, the park was deserted. The green lawns stretched on around the corner and up the side of the embankment. And as the grass faded to dirt and then to rocks, my eyes focused on the crudely built fire pit at the top of the hill. Stone and wood benches had been erected in a half circle around a stone pit. It had been built mostly for scout meetings and the occasional business picnic, but it was rarely used anymore. When we were kids, Grady, Caden and I had designated it our place to get away, a place to hang out away from parents and everyone else.

  I hiked along the path, and it happened again, like it had so often in the past few days, a fleeting moment where the accident had been erased and Grady was still alive and well, waiting for me at the top with a cold soda and a question about the math homework. Then the moment passed, and the cold, bitter reality that he was gone swept in like a harsh wind.

  I couldn’t see the benches or Caden as I made my way up the dusty trail. It was entirely likely that he wasn’t even at our old spot. It was almost silly and sentimental of me to think that he would be there.

  The last section of narrow trail had been overgrown with weeds, and an outcropping of shrubs blocked part of it. Apparently, the city had decided not to waste money on such a remote section of the park.

  I pushed dry, prickly branches out of my way as I hiked up the path. I stepped past the last shrub and into the clearing that led to the campfire area. It was as rundown as the trail. The only sign that a human had been through it in the near past was a brown paper bag concealing everything but the neck of a liquor bottle sitting on one of the benches.

  I glanced around the area. And there, at the far end, past the circle of stone and wood benches, in the shadows of the trees, was a tall figure with broad shoulders. I stood and waited for him to walk out, not entirely convinced he wanted to see or talk to me, or anyone for that matter. Caden had always been good at keeping to himself when he was upset.

  A few long seconds passed, and I nearly lost my nerve and headed back down. I hadn’t seen or talked to Caden since Grady’s and my high school graduation when he’d come home for two days, looking even more heartbreaking than usual in his army fatigues.

  I moved to turn around, convinced Caden didn’t want to talk or be bothered.

  Then the leaves crunched beneath his feet as he stepped out from the trees. He had filled out, and, as my mom had noted, he’d added a lot of tattoos. Heavy black beard stubble covered his chin, but I could still see the familiar determined set of his jaw. The innocence of youth and living in a small town had been completely erased. And my heart still melted at the sight of him. My secret crush, a crush I couldn’t even tell my best friend about. Especially my best friend. The guy who I’d spent too many hours daydreaming about, too many hours trying to impress, was standing in front of me looking about as lost and sad as I’d ever seen him.

  Caden stepped into the circle of benches and stared at me a long moment. I saw his throat move with a hard swallow. Then he spoke. “Where the hell have you been, Trinket?”

  My body shook and the tears fell as I plodded toward him with heavy feet and an even heavier heart. I couldn’t look at his face as I pressed into his arms and buried myself against his chest.

  Chapter 4

  Caden

  My arms wrapped around Kenna. I held her tightly and realized it was the first time I’d taken a solid breath since Mom had called me with the news. I gazed down at the top of her blonde head, and it occurred to me that I’d never had her in my arms like this. There’d been times, while we were messing around as teenagers, when I’d picked her up to toss her in a pool or help her down off a tree limb or wall, but I’d never actually had her tucked against me and in my arms.

  I’d been in Mayfair three days wandering aimlessly back and forth between my parents’ houses, trying hard to console my dad and Sally, but doing a fucking pathetic job of it. I was in too much pain myself to be of any comfort to them.

  Relatives and friends had been in and out of my dad’s house, neighbors bringing flowers and food, aunts and uncles who’d come to town for the funeral, but I’d hardly said a word to any of them. Kenna was the person I’d waited for, the one person I needed to see.

  Without thinking, I leaned down and kissed her forehead. She lifted her face to mine. Her brown eyes were glassy with tears.

  I brushed her long bangs back. “I figured you’d know where to find me.” I could have held her like that for hours, for days, right through the damn funeral and right until she walked onto the plane to fly back to New York. Only she wasn’t mine to keep.

  I lowered my arms. She wiped at her tears and stepped back.

  She glanced around at the run-down circle of benches. “Guess the city doesn’t have this place on their budget list anymore. It sure looks different than when we used to hang out up here.”

  “Shit, I feel like I’ve lived a thousand lives since then.” I walked over and sat down next to my bottle of whiskey. I picked it up, took a swig and held it up to Kenna.

  “I don’t normally start my whiskey drinking until noon.” She reached for it. “But what the hell.” She took a swig and then scrunched up her button nose and swallowed as if she was chugging down a handful of gravel. “That’s truly awful. I’m pretty sure that is what jet fuel would taste like.” She took another drink and handed it back to me.

  She sat down on the bench next to me. The sun was lifting higher in the sky, reaching well past the shade provided by the surrounding overgrown trees. I took another drink. The whiskey had dulled my senses some, which was exactly the effect I’d been going for. But the ache in my bones and my chest and my head was still as strong as ever.

  “How’s the leg?” Kenna asked.

  “Hurts when the weather is cold, but I can’t complain.” I looked over at her. She still had the spray of freckles across her nose and those curly lashes and plump lips that made her look like a little girl’s fancy doll. She’d grown into a woman, but there was still plenty of Trinket left. In her early teens, Kenna had always been small and petite. I could still remember sitting in class and reading a story about a woman who found a shiny, pretty little piece of jewelry in her grandmother’s attic. The ‘trinket’ turned out to be a rare, priceless necklace. From that day on I’d called Kenna, Trinket. To both Grady and me she had always been just that, shiny, pretty and little . . . and priceless.

  “How’s the law degree . . . and the fiancé?” I asked, not really wanting to know about the lucky man who’d ended up with my girl.

  Kenna’s lips turned up slightly. “Seems you’ve been keeping up with the Mayfair gossip. Wouldn’t have expected it.”

  “My mom makes sure of it. Every month she sends me a big ass email detailing every fucking thing that has happened during the past weeks. I always skim through to the parts about you.”

  “Right.”

  “You don’t believe me? Trinket, you and Grady were the only people who mattered to me in this town.”

  Kenna stretched out her long, smooth legs and stared down at her feet. “I can
’t come to grips with it yet, Cade. I keep thinking he’s still here, just waiting to go skateboarding or to go buy an ice cream cone.” Her voice wavered, and the sound of it made my throat tighten. “Rocky road. That was his favorite, unless—’

  “Unless the ice cream shop had—what was that crazy ass concoction called?”

  “Summer hash. Grady said it was all the good stuff shoved into one waffle cone.” Her voice faded as she spoke.

  “I’m still waiting to wake up from this bad fucking dream. Sitting with you, Trinket, is the closest I’ll ever come to sitting with my brother again.” I picked up the whiskey. It tasted warm and disgusting, but it was holding my buzz at a level that kept me from thinking too hard.

  Kenna reached over and took hold of the bottle. She winced and shuddered as she took another gulp. “Grady was one of those people who everyone wanted to know. I always felt extremely lucky that he liked me enough to keep me around as a friend.”

  I looked over at Kenna. Was it possible she still had no idea how Grady felt about her? I knew. Our parents knew. I was sure the whole damn town knew. Kenna was beautiful, athletic, smart and funny, but she’d never realized her own worth. Growing up, there had never been any girls in Mayfair to rival her. And even so, she’d always kept her feet on the ground and her head on her shoulders. It seemed she’d never considered the possibility that she was a heartbreaker, that she was the type of girl who could wrap herself around your soul with just her laugh. And now some lucky bastard in New York had stolen off with the girl who Grady and I had loved since she’d ridden up to our house on her red bicycle.