Broken Love

by Jillian Dodd

  "My teammate is a complete asshat. One of the few guys I don't care much for, but he was still my teammate. There's supposed to be some respect there. Limits, you know? I need to get out of this fucking house. Can we go somewhere? Please?"

  "Where do you want to go?"

  "I don't fucking care. For a drive. Anywhere."

  "Okay. Let's go."

  I grab the keys for my SUV and rearrange the seats so Pike can sit in the way back and keep his leg straight out, get him loaded up, roll the windows down, and take off.

  Cade

  For the first hour at my parents' house, I hand out candy wondering where Palmer is. Wondering why she didn't show or why she didn't call. Soon, I get sick of all the cute little costumes and cheerful smiles and just put a bowl full of candy out on the front porch and turn off the lights inside the house.

  I eat my chili and cornbread in the dark and stare at my phone, willing her to call.

  After another hour, I'm praying she's okay.

  After the third hour, I'm just plain pissed, but when my phone rings, I answer it without even looking to see who is calling.

  "Cade," a voice says--one that is not Palmer's.

  I check the caller ID and see it's Marty, the studio attorney leading the contract deal I've been working on. I am not in the mood to talk to him, but fuck it.

  "We can't go a penny higher," he continues.

  "Marty, you know Gracie Stevens sells. She'll be gorgeous on all the movie posters, dolls, trinkets, and other merchandise you are going to bank on. She'll push it because of her popularity. She is your Warrior Goddess. You know you want her. Have you even seen how many followers she has on social media? Her app alone has two million subscribers a month. She can do live feeds straight from the set. Talk about free advertising to your target market. She could sell shit to teens if she told them it tasted good."

  "She's a risk. A loose cannon. Partying and out of control." Which is a true statement. She's young, has too much money and freedom, but she's also an incredibly gifted actress.

  "You're filming in the bum fuck desert. How much trouble can she get into there, really? She'll be the perfect modern-day Athena. And she'll bring in your target audience, Marty. Stop fucking around and pay us what she's worth." I'm being a dick. Marty and I are actually friends, but I'm taking my frustration and hurt out on him anyway.

  "Are you really going to say no to the kind of money that's already on the table?"

  "She's fifteen. She was nominated for a freaking Academy Award. She's a great actress. She has numerous other offers on the table but, for some reason, your script appealed to her the most. That's why we're in negotiations now, Marty. We're talking about a point off the top. If you keep dicking around with me, I'll make it two."

  Marty sighs. "Fine. One point."

  "And I want the accounting for that point crystal clear."

  "You'll have the offer in the morning, Cade. What's up your butt anyway?"

  "Nothing, Marty. Just sick of fucking around."

  I hang up. And realize I told him the God's honest truth. I am tired of fucking around. I want Palmer and only her.

  What the hell am I supposed to do now?

  She totally blew me off.

  Fuck it.

  I make a quick decision to get the hell out of town, so I can think. Figure this all out. So, I call Cash. "Hey, I'm headed up to Tahoe tomorrow. Can you handle my clients for the weekend?"

  "Of course," he says. "Anything pressing going on?"

  "No, I've got everything pretty well buttoned up. Just call me if anything serious comes up, but otherwise I'll be back on Monday."

  "Sounds good. By the way, Ashlyn and I are hoping we'll get invited to go skiing up there once they get some snow."

  "You know you can use the new house anytime you want. I've got to finish getting it furnished, but I'm hoping to convince Mom and Dad to celebrate Christmas up there this year."

  "That would be a lot of fun. Take care and have a good weekend!"

  "You too, bro. Thanks."

  I hang up, turn the lights back on, bring the empty candy bowl back inside, and wait for my parents to get home.

  Palmer

  Pike and I drive around for hours, listening to Game Three on the radio. He seems to be in a better mood when we get home, even though his team lost again.

  He thanks me for getting him out and goes to bed, while I clean up the glass, stand the table upright, and move it out of his path. Then I look around at my house more critically and rearrange all the furniture, making bigger, clearer paths so that Pike can more easily maneuver around in the wheelchair.

  I drop into a chair in my room and suddenly realize I completely forgot about meeting Cade. I run back out to the garage, grab my purse, and take my phone out.

  I have a couple missed calls from him and a few texts.

  When I call him back, it goes straight to voicemail.

  Shit.

  I send a text.

  Me: I'm so so sorry, Cade. I got home and Pike was upset. It's a long story, but . . . I'm sorry.

  He doesn't reply.

  November 1st

  Palmer

  "What would you think about going up to Tahoe with me?" I ask Pike as I'm cooking breakfast. Normally, I'm not up this early, but I heard him rolling around at four-thirty and decided to just get up. "I'm going to fly to Reno early this evening then drive over to the house."

  "I'm not sure I'm up for all that travel. If I'm being honest, the car ride last night wore me out, and I'm sore."

  "Then I'll cancel my flight and stay home."

  "I saw that you moved furniture around. I appreciate that, Palmer. I'm sorry I was such a jerk last night."

  "It's understandable. You've been through a lot in the last couple of days."

  "I was thinking about Dad last night. You were right. He'd tell me to dust off my uniform and get back out there, so that's what I'm going to do."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I'd fly to the games in Florida if I thought I could handle the trip, but if the team comes back to L.A. for Game Six, I want to go to the game and be with my team. So until then, I'm going to do everything the doctor says. Get my rest. Keep my leg up. Let it heal."

  "So then we can just hang out and watch movies all weekend, like we used to do when we were kids."

  "No, Palmer. You're going to Tahoe. I'm staying here."

  "You're kicking me out of my own house?"

  "Pretty much," he grins. "I'm going to sit my ass on the couch, cheer for my team, and order take out. Seriously, sis, just letting me stay here is enough. I don't expect you to change your schedule for me. And I could honestly use some time alone. To reflect. Get my shit together. I've had a lot of requests for interviews and need to figure all that out."

  "I'll only agree to it if you are okay with Tory stopping in to check on you a couple times a day. And if you will text me and let me know you haven't, like, fallen and can't get up."

  "Deal," he says with a laugh.

  "Question for you," I say. "When Bethany left here, where was she going?"

  "Back home, I assume."

  "To your home? What about your stuff, Pike?"

  "She wouldn't, would she?"

  I stare at him. "Cash, jewelry, watches, your National Championship ring?"

  His eyes get huge, and he slams his hand on the kitchen table. "Shit. Grab me my phone, will you?"

  I wait while he makes some calls. When he's done, he says, "I don't know where the hell everyone is, but I've called the house phone, the housekeeper, my agent, and my neighbors. No one is answering."

  "What about someone from the team?"

  "They'll be getting ready for Game Four today. They don't need to worry about my shit."

  "Is there anyone you know who is going to be in town for the game? Someone that could maybe run over there?"

  "Carter Crawford," he says with a nod. "He'll be there."

  "You should call him."

  "
Shit, you're right."

  Pike

  I call Carter, explain the Bethany situation, and ask if he'd have time to go to my place and get the locks changed.

  "Do you think she's there now?" he asks.

  "If she was able to get a flight last night, it would probably would have been the red eye, which would have had her landing at seven this morning. So I suppose she could be, since it's close to eight o'clock there."

  "Give me the address. I'm at a hotel downtown. You're out on Davis Island, right?"

  "Yeah, I am."

  "Perfect, that means I'm close."

  I give him my address and the security code.

  "I'll go on one condition," Carter says.

  "Anything. Just name it."

  "When you're feeling better, I want you to have a drink with me--"

  "Of course, I'll have a drink with you."

  "--and my brother," he adds.

  "Ah, fuck, man."

  "Deal or no deal, Pike. The time is ticking."

  I sigh. "Fine. Deal. Seriously, thank you."

  "I'll call you when I get there and let you know how it goes."

  "Fuck," I mutter to myself as I hang up.

  "What'd he say?" Palmer asks me.

  "He said he'd take care of everything."

  "Aw, good. Let's eat breakfast while we wait for an update."

  Cade

  The charter I use suggests changing our flight plan to land in Reno as opposed to the small Truckee airport I previously requested, due to high winds. We make the switch, take the flight, and I rent an SUV at the airport there.

  I know the area is expecting some flurries today, but by the time I cross into Truckee, the snow is coming down hard and heavy. It's getting dark, the roads are slippery, and I find myself slowing down and taking each turn very carefully.

  As I round a corner, I spot a car that has slid off the road. A gorgeous woman is standing outside the car with a phone to her ear, her collar turned up, shivering against the cold.

  Palmer.

  Shit.

  Even though she tried to called me late Halloween night, I haven't called her back. I wasn't sure what to say, and I didn't want to hear whatever dumb excuse she had for not showing up. My plan was to come up here and figure out what to do regarding her.

  Part of me wishes I could drive right by and pretend I don't see her.

  But, I can't.

  When I saw the woman on the side of the road, my heart skipped a beat, recognizing her before I realized it was Palmer.

  I put my flashers on, pull over, and roll down the passenger-side window. "Hey!"

  "Cade, is that you?" she asks, her eyes wide with astonishment.

  "Yeah, you need a lift?"

  She glances at her car, then at me, like she's trying to decide which may be the lesser evil.

  After a few seconds, she nods her head. "Yes, thank you. That would be great. The tow truck can't be here for at least an hour. I guess it's worse just west of here."

  "You know, you shouldn't be out on roads like this all alone," I say, chewing her out a little. "You should have put on chains."

  "I thought I could make it," she replies, causing my mind to tumble back in time.

  "I thought I could make it," she says. She's wearing a sundress, and the tip of her nose and her shoulders are a little pink from our day spent on the shores of Lake Tahoe. She's just fifteen, and I'll be turning twenty-one in a few days. She's going home with her family tomorrow, and then all our college buddies are coming up for a weekend party. To celebrate my finally being drinking-age legal.

  What's not legal is the girl standing in front of me. But you'd never know it from looking at her. Palmer Montlake has been modeling. Already tall with the perfect body for hanging clothes from, she's just back from a European modeling trip.

  And, boy, has she ever grown up. In more ways than one. Most importantly, is the fact that I'm sure she's flirting with me.

  I know I need to make her stop.

  But I'm a little drunk, and she's way too pretty for her own good. Not to mention the fact that she was running around in a skimpy bikini all day long. But having her cover up doesn't mean I've forgotten about how she looked.

  I chastise myself.

  She's just a kid. She's fifteen. Not only that, she's my best friend's kid sister--the holy grail of what you don't mess with.

  She runs her hand down my arm, laughs, and says, "Will you put a Band-Aid on it for me?"

  When she was trying to jump from the boat to the dock like her brother and I did, she caught her flip-flop on the edge and crashed--cutting her knee.

  "It's not that bad," I hesitate, knowing that under no circumstances can I can allow myself to touch her. I'm afraid if I do, I won't be able to stop.

  "Come on, Cade," she pouts, puffing out her sexy bottom lip. "I've helped you before. Remember a couple years ago when you were bleeding after sliding into home plate? I fixed you all up."

  I remember it, alright. But she didn't look like this back then. She was gawky and awkward like a gelding, not the gorgeous gazelle she is today.

  She jumps up onto the kitchen counter, immediately causing my mind to think about what naughty things I'd do to her on this counter if she were as old as she looks.

  I take a deep breath, calm myself down, and put the Band-Aid gently across her knee.

  She kisses me on the cheek in return. What should be a quick thank-you peck is long and drawn out, and her scent lingers on me.

  "Thank you, Cade," she says, my name sounding like warm butter melting off her lips.

  "The snow is coming down fast," she says, bringing me back to the present.

  "There's no way we can make it to your cabin," I say. "I assume that's where you're going?"

  "Yeah, I was."

  "Are you supposed to meet anyone there?" I inquire. Please say no.

  "No. I have some scripts to read, and Pike kind of wanted some time to himself."

  "My place is closer," I say, thanking whatever divine intervention allowed her to go off the road. "You can stay there until the roads get better."

  "Okay," she says with a shy smile. "Thanks for rescuing me, Cade."

  "You're welcome, Palmer."

  She gets in the car and shakes the snow out of her hair. "I'm sorry about the other night. Why didn't you call me back?"

  "I don't know. I just--"

  "You were pissed I didn't show up, right?"

  "A little."

  "I sort of explained what happened in the text. Did you read it?"

  "I did. Look, you know your brother hates me. He's staying at your house. It would be awkward, so I decided not to put you in that position."

  "I see," she says, putting her head down.

  Which makes me feel bad.

  We drive in silence for a few miles then she says, "Can you even believe how gorgeous this snow is? Don't you just want to lay in it and make a bunch of snow angels?"

  I grip my wheel tighter as the car fishtails on a patch of ice. "Let's hope we make it there first."

  "Where are we going?" she asks. "I didn't know you had a place up here."

  "I've been looking for the right place for a quite a while. Just closed a few weeks ago."

  "Is it furnished? Are we going to have any food?"

  "I have some basic furnishings and linens. Not much yet. I wanted to get a feel for the place before I order any more. And groceries were delivered earlier today." I turn and give her a wink. "Along with a few cases of wine."

  "So we can get drunk, and we won't starve. Sounds like the perfect weekend."

  I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, excited about how she mentioned the weekend. Does she want to spend the weekend with me?

  Could I get so lucky?

  I look over at her. Her cheeks and nose are red from the cold, but her eyes are bright with excitement about the falling snow. She's bouncing in the seat a little, like she's excited about something.

  Probably just glad not to
be standing on the side of the road anymore.

  After winding up the mountain into the ski resort area of Truckee, I pull into the driveway of my new home.

  "Cade! It's so pretty!" Palmer screeches. "You literally bought the house of my dreams. Don't you remember that time when I told you about it? That night when we laid under the stars in that hammock in Belize?"

  I remember, alright. I remember everything about that trip. How soft her skin felt, the way her ass looked in a skimpy little bikini, the way she fit perfectly into my arms, and how amazing it felt when I was inside of her.

  "We were happy then," I say flatly, the memory both blissful and painful as I open the door and pull into the garage, knowing that's why this house took years to find. When she passionately described it to me, it became my dream, too.

  She jumps out of the car quickly, her face flush with excitement.

  "Leave the bags, Cade. Give me a tour."

  Give me a tour. If I had my way, a tour would involve christening each room by making love in it.

  Love. Not sex. That's how it always was with Palmer. Even when the sex was completely dirty in nature, it always felt different.

  I shake my head, take her outstretched hand, and follow her into the house.

  After giving her the tour of the place, I unload our luggage, putting hers in one of the guest bedrooms and praying she'll lock herself in and read her scripts, so I won't have to keep looking at her.

  Because if I have to keep looking at her, I'm going to end up fucking her.

  My mother says love is based on strong emotions and that strong emotions polarize us. That's why I can both love Palmer and hate her at the same time.

  And right now, I hate that I still love her.

  She's standing next to one of the big picture windows, looking outside.

  "The snow is really coming down now," she says. "This is crazy beautiful."

  "You're crazy beautiful," I mutter.

  "What?"

  "I said you're crazy beautiful, Palmer." I say it flatly, with no emotion. I'm afraid to say it any other way.

  She blushes and self-consciously pushes back a strand of hair. I love that about her. How she isn't even aware of how truly stunning she is.