Rock Me (Ross Siblings #2)(25)
Author: Cherrie Lynn

Drowning. She was going down.

“I figured someone as beautiful as you would be seeing someone by now,” Stephen said.

The glass froze on its way to her mouth. By now. He remembered her, all right. But that wasn’t what caused her to shudder. All night, she’d tried not to think about Brian. His image in her mind would’ve been her final desperate gasp, the one-two-three count until sweet oblivion…because she figured she would completely lose her mind. In front of all of them.

At that moment, it felt as if every set of eyes in the room was trained on her, though truthfully it was only Stephen’s and her mother’s. Everyone else chattered right along, sucking up to the happy, too-perfect couple beaming at each other over champagne and filet mignon at the head of the table. She watched it all as if from a separate plane of reality.

Slowly, Candace put her glass back down without ever taking a drink. “There is someone,” she said quietly.

“Nonsense,” her mother announced, earning herself a murderous look she easily ignored. “She isn’t seeing anyone, Stephen. Not at all.”

It was the truth, wasn’t it? She wasn’t. At all. But…

“I am in love with someone,” she said firmly, staring daggers at Sylvia Andrews. “I may not be with him, but in my heart—”

“Stop this right now,” her mother said, her voice practically a hiss, every word its own sentence. “If I hear one more word about that boy, so help me God—”

It took only one innocent question to bring the world to an end. Michelle was the one who asked it, leaning over the table from her seat on Stephen’s opposite side. “Who?”

Horrified, Candace looked past him at her cousin’s lovely, inquisitive face. “Michelle, I— Can I talk to you later about that?”

Michelle’s brow furrowed. “Well, of course, if that’s what you want. I was just curious. I wasn’t aware you were that interested in anyone.”

“She still doesn’t know?” Sylvia demanded. Now they were starting to get some uneasy glances. “Well, that’s reaching a new low, isn’t it, Candace? I thought she at least knew what you’ve been trying to do.”

Candace’s voice was scarcely a whisper. Given the sound of her own pulse thundering in her ears, she could hardly hear it herself. “Mother, please don’t.”

“Ashamed of yourself? You should be.”

When Sylvia’s face began to swim in her vision, Candace calmly picked her napkin up out of her lap and laid it on the table, scooting her chair back as she stood. Stephen half rose next to her. “Excuse me, I need some air.”

“Candace Marie, I’m not done. Sit down.”

“I’m done. If you have something to say to me, then you’re going to have to drag your ass out of that chair and follow me.” Amid some gasps but mostly shocked silence, she whirled and strode for the door, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Several chairs scraped against the tiles behind her. Wonderful. How many were coming outside to witness this? She was shaking so hard, her heart beating so fast, she feared she might faint. The hot tears that had been building spilled over, agitated by her pounding steps, leaving warm trails on her cheeks that were oddly comforting.

Finally, blessedly, she emerged into the muggy air outside her aunt and uncle’s palatial home. It was stifling, but far less so than the atmosphere in that dining room. Out here the sky was huge and stained with twilight. The crickets were joyous, and she felt she could finally breathe again. Until her mother seized her arm and jerked her around to face her. Michelle was at her side, along with Candace’s father, who looked stern and way too tall and mightily pissed off. A few seconds later, her older brother Jameson stormed out.

“I can’t believe what I just heard in there,” her dad thundered. “If I ever hear you disrespect your mother again—”

“What about my respect, Dad? As an adult, and a member of this family, not to mention your daughter? When in the hell is it my turn to get some respect?”

“When you earn it,” Sylvia snapped. “When you learn to act like an adult and make adult decisions. When you can refrain from episodes like the one we all just witnessed, maybe then it’ll be ‘your turn’.”

“Aunt Syl—” Michelle began, trying to get a word in. Candace’s parents promptly drowned her out.

“You still technically reside under our roof,” Phillip warned, putting a finger in her face. Michelle tried to lay a calming hand on his arm, but he ignored her, every iota of his focus trained on Candace. There had been moments in her childhood that look had terrified her. Now, it only infuriated her more. Here comes his all too familiar “respect my authoritah!” bit. “As long as that’s the case, we’re the authority figures, Candace. I’ll not have you running wild and embarrassing this family while we still foot the bill for it!”

“What have I done?” she shrieked. “I go to school and I go home! I’m not out partying and blowing your money on booze and male strippers, Dad. And really, so what if I was? I still have a f**king four-point-oh average—”

“Candace!” both her parents bellowed in unison. Even Michelle’s eyes grew to the size of salad plates. Jameson, holding his tongue so far, crossed his arms and stared at the ground, frowning. She knew better than to expect any help from that quarter.

“Listen to me!” She ticked off on her fingers. “I have a four-point-oh, I’m not out getting myself knocked up, I don’t drink, I’m not doing drugs! I am freakishly boring. All because of you, and not wanting to embarrass you, and being terrified of what you might think or say or do to me. I do everything for you. But I don’t want to be a freaking school teacher. Please get off my ass about that. Do you want me to be miserable my entire life?”

“I’m sorry to say you’re on the fast track for that, considering the lowlifes you’re keeping with—”

“Lowlifes? I always wondered what you’d say if you knew your precious Stephen tried to sexually assault me at Deanne’s graduation party. You want to talk about lowlifes?”

“Oh, Candace, please.”

“He did, Aunt Syl.” Michelle’s voice was quiet, but firm. “We had to pull him off her. I told him to leave, but he wouldn’t, and none of the guys would stand up for her and make him go. I brought her straight home, but she didn’t want to tell you what happened.”

Her mother’s demeanor cracked, just a little. Not enough to give her any hope of a change. Then Jameson spoke up. “Aw, hell, he’d had too much to drink. We all had. Stop blowing it out of proportion, Candace. You were only in a roomful of people.”

Michelle looked as if she were grinding her teeth into dust.

“That’s something else,” her mother said, fired up all over again. “I know you still run around with that Sanders girl, with the alcoholic mother—”

“Don’t bring Sam into this! She has nothing whatsoever to do with it.”

Sylvia swept on, unheeded. “And this new development…” She glanced at Michelle. “I’m just stunned.”

Michelle planted both hands on her hips, her voice suddenly blasting through the continuing argument and commanding attention without her having to make a single move. “Hey! Stop it right now, and someone tell me what’s going on. Aunt Syl, you made that comment at the table, and ever since this conversation started, everyone has been throwing me these weird, secretive looks and I can’t take it anymore. What is going on?”

Candace turned to face her dear cousin, the words piling up in her throat until she almost choked on them. She had to spit them out before they strangled her. “Michelle, it’s Brian.” She drew a sobbing breath as Michelle only looked confused. “Brian is the person I was seeing, for all of two nights. He’s one of the ‘lowlifes’ my mother is talking about. I’m sorry, and I love you, but I love him too. I have ever since you introduced us. All I can tell you is that nothing ever happened between us while you two were together, and I’ll swear that on anything you want to put in front of me. This has all only happened in the last couple of weeks.” She threw a glance at her parents. “When I went to him to get a tattoo.”

Sylvia stepped back, and Phillip grabbed her as if he expected her to pass out. She even fluttered a hand up to her throat. “You did what?”

Candace felt her lips curl with a little more wicked glee than she should probably be displaying at the moment. “I would show it to you right now, Mother, but it might violate a few public decency laws.”

Michelle ran one hand through her hair, holding it back off her forehead for a moment. It was her signature gesture of distress. Candace immediately regretted her careless words for her cousin’s sake, but she enjoyed the stricken horror both her parents were wearing. Someone could have just told them she’d died. No…actually, they probably wouldn’t have been as upset over her demise.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly to Michelle. “I…” Fumbling, she gave up. “Please don’t hate me.”

Jameson scoffed, shaking his head. “You girls must really enjoy scraping the bottom of the barrel, messing around with that one.”

“James,” Michelle snapped as Candace’s mouth fell open.

“You have the audacity to say that about him while you defend the scum sitting in there?”

“Don’t forget I went to school with that no-good punk. When he wasn’t living half his life in detention, that is, or his parents weren’t shipping him off somewhere. Bad enough he was with you, Michelle, but I’ll be damned if he’s going to get his hands on my baby sister. I’ll beat his ass into next week.”

Candace tried to keep her cool, though she saw red, especially when she noticed the all-too-pleased smile on her mother’s face. “Oh, please, Jameson, he’d wrap you into a pretzel.”

Michelle smirked her agreement as the door swung open. Deanne flew out, her eyes nightmarish, seeking and finding Candace with unnerving precision. The sweet Southern belle act was long gone, and in its place was the true bridezilla Candace knew she could be. Deanne plowed between Candace’s parents to face her front and center. “I’ve just now stemmed the freaking riot in there, Candace. What in the hell are you trying to prove, pulling that stunt at my rehearsal dinner? Are you trying to ruin this for me?”

“Hey.” Michelle, ever the referee, grabbed her arm. “Lay off her. Candace, go home. I’m not mad at you, honey, but it’s best if you leave.”

More tears spilled, dripping on her blouse, as the five of them stood there looking at her. Michelle’s gaze was the only one that wasn’t openly hostile. But her mouth was set in a grim line, and there was a troubled wrinkle between her brows. God, of them all, she couldn’t have Michelle hate her. She couldn’t.

Deanne crossed her arms and eased her defensive stance a bit. “Whatever. I don’t know what’s wrong, and I don’t care. But if one more thing goes foul in this wedding, I’m going to shoot first and pull my freaking hair out by the roots later. Candace, do you think you can manage to be at the church by two tomorrow? That’s two p.m., honey. Just so we’re clear.”