Faking It (Losing It #2)(29)
Author: Cora Carmack

I picked the airline ticket back up, and held it as I said, “You and everybody else on Facebook.”

“How are you doing with it?”

I said, “Okay.”

And I was just fine . . . where Bliss was concerned anyway.

“Cade . . .”

“I am, Rusty. I promise. I mean, I saw them a week or two ago, and it was awkward as hell. And depressing, because I’m pretty sure my friendship with Bliss is DOA. But I’m okay. There’s actually this other girl.”

I hadn’t told anyone about Max. I’d liked feeling that she was this awesome secret that I refused to share with the world. But she had my mind so twisted up that I had to tell someone.

“Another girl, huh?” he asked. “What’s she like?”

“A total mind fuck, that’s what she’s like.”

Rusty said, “I like the sound of her already.” He would. “So you’re together?”

“Not exactly.”

“Are you about to be?” he asked.

I looked back at that damn ticket and said, “Um . . . I doubt it.”

“Were you together?”

“Sort of.”

“Damn I’m confused, and I’m not even part of it.”

“Tell me about it.”

“If I’m reading between the Cade lines, I’d say you still want to be with her.”

“I don’t know, man. I do, and I don’t. She’s amazing, but she’s got a whole baggage claim to herself, man. If I’m honest, she stands to screw me up way more than Bliss ever did.”

“This is why I don’t date girls.”

“Not a solution I’m willing to take, man.”

He said, “It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind. You know this girl isn’t good for you.”

I did know that, but it didn’t stop me from thinking about her constantly. I had to keep reminding myself of how it felt waking up alone that morning just to stop myself from calling her.

“You’re right. I just want life to be simple again, you know?”

That’s what I’d seen in Bliss. I knew it now. A life with her would have been simple and nice and safe. Complication free.

“Good luck with that, Winston. Life isn’t ever simple. Not until you’re dead.”

The phone call went on for a while after that, but my mind stayed stuck on those words. We talked about what other friends were doing and the possibility of getting the gang together for New Year’s.

But I thought about how I’d spent twenty-two years chasing after a life that I’d convinced myself I’d wanted. A simple, predictable, perfect life. But it still had yet to become any of those things. I’d been accumulating talents and accomplishments, marking them off this unwritten checklist that had been in the back of my mind since I was a kid. But what did it all add up to?

The truth was . . . none of that kept people from leaving. Nothing could, if the person was determined to go. The only question was how long you were willing to chase them.

Rusty had to get to work, so we wrapped up the call with promises to talk again soon. I had hoped talking with him would give me perspective, but I still didn’t know what I wanted, and my thoughts were more knotted up than ever.

32

Max

I refused to be nervous about spending time with Cade. Not when I had so many other things to worry about, but thoughts of him kept creeping into my head.

He’d ruined me.

Before I’d been like ice—cold and cutting and solid. But for weeks, he’d been thawing me out, and I hated it.

There was no control like this, no protection. And I had fewer than twenty-four hours until the end of the world. Also known as family Christmas.

Home was the lion’s den. My scars were always more sensitive there because that’s where I’d gotten the wounds. Now more than ever I needed my armor.

So today was about strengthening my resolve.

My mom had called seventeen and a half times today already. The half because one of the phone calls lasted so long that classifying it as one call just didn’t seem fair.

My brother and his wife, Bethany, had arrived yesterday, and I could feel the pretentiousness creeping through the phone just hearing them in the background.

I still hadn’t packed my bags. I had two sets of clothes folded and ready to go—my traditional holiday garb of turtlenecks and scarfs . . . or my normal clothes. As much as I wanted to make Cade happy, this wasn’t a decision that I could make lightly.

When I came home from my shift at the tattoo parlor, I reached out to tug open the door to my building, and it didn’t budge. I blinked, and then pulled again, but nothing changed.

I stepped back and looked around my street to make sure I’d gone to the right building. There was the Laundromat next door, which meant I was in the right place. I stepped forward and yanked on the door again. Nothing.

The door was locked.

The door to this building hadn’t been locked in ages, almost a year, I was sure.

I fished out my keys, and it took me a few seconds to even remember which key worked on this door because it had been so long. What had made the landlord fix it now? I’d given up bugging him about it months ago because nothing worked.

Unless he hadn’t been the one to fix it.

I froze with the key halfway to the lock. Would Cade have done that? Even though we were . . . well, not whatever we had been.

I weighed the probability in my mind of who could have fixed the door. Between my bum of a landlord and Golden Boy—the choice was obvious.

My heartbeat sped up faster just thinking about the possibility.

Maybe it didn’t mean anything. Maybe it wasn’t even him.

But what if it was and what if it did?

I thawed a little bit more.

I shook my head, and focused on my keys. When I found the right one, I shoved it into the lock a little too hard. Then I went upstairs and faced my packing options. I took a few turtlenecks, just in case, but for the most part I packed my normal clothes, the clothes I thought Cade would have approved of.

When I couldn’t hold back my nerves about tomorrow or my fantasies about Cade being the one to fix my door, I went to bed for the night, hoping I could stay strong . . . against everything.

My head was pounding, and it sounded like I was underwater. The world was so far away and too bright after so long alone in the dark. A light shined in my eye, and I flinched. A face hovered over mine, and my heart turned over in my chest.

Alex.

It had to be.

I tried to say her name, but my tongue felt like sandpaper, and my throat burned with the effort. All I managed was a whisper.

“Don’t try to talk, Rest your vocal cords.”

The voice was male, not Alex’s. My world chose that moment to sharpen, to emerge from the blur of my vision. I licked my lips. They were sticky and tasted like pennies.

Two fingers pressed into my wrist, and the man startled rattling off numbers to someone else I couldn’t see.

I registered the steady rumble of an engine, and whatever I was lying on swayed slightly.

I was in an ambulance. They were taking me away.

I panicked, and tried to sit up, but my shoulders were strapped down. I was trapped again. I bucked and squirmed, and a sharp pain shot up my leg. I tried to scream, but nothing came out.

Empty.

The pressure in my head increased until I thought it might explode.

I mouthed Alex’s name again and again, even though I couldn’t say it.

“You’re going to be okay,” the paramedic assured me. “We got to you in time.”

No. No, they hadn’t.

They were too late.

I saw the paramedic pick up a syringe, and then my world went fuzzy again. The panic subsided, but the memories did not.

It all came too late.

I woke up, gasping, my arms and legs slick with sweat and stuck to the sheets. My dreams were always worse around the holidays, but that had been the first in a while. I’d been too preoccupied with other things of late for my old demons to show their heads. I guess it was too much to hope for that they’d finally ended.

I tried to go back to sleep, but now the accident was fresh in my mind. Every time a car passed outside, the lights reflected through my window, and I shot up in bed, afraid another dream was starting.

Finally I decided that sleep wasn’t going to be a possibility. I got up, and took a long shower. I used the time to clear my head, and focus on what I needed to do on this trip.

The end goal was music. That was what I had to remember. Music was my constant. As eager as I was to see Cade again, I couldn’t afford to be distracted. Not by him, not by the past, not by anything.

I used the extra time to straighten my hair, a rare occurrence for me, but it kept my hands busy. Mom called twice to make sure I was up, and the second time I just put her on speakerphone and let her chatter on, interjecting the occasional “Yes,” and “Really?” to keep her going.

I pulled a scoop-neck shirt over my head, and looked in the mirror. The tattoos weren’t blatantly on display, but they definitely weren’t hidden. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine how my parents would react.

But for the life of me, I couldn’t picture it. Or maybe I didn’t want to.

I was grabbing my coat and scarf when a knock sounded on my door.

Cade.

My head was spinning.

“Just a second!”

I leaned a hand against the nearest wall and took a second to calm myself and fortify my walls.

Don’t think about him. Think about music.

I imagined a quick cigarette, but it did little to calm my nerves. Finally, I just grabbed the doorknob, and pulled.

He stood on the other side of my door, leaning against my doorjamb in a way that was so comfortable and sexy that I thought I had to be dreaming.

I pinched myself, but nothing changed.

So much for not thinking about him. All the emotions I’d narrowly kept in check this week hit me hard and fast. I tried to swallow it down, but it was just too much.

The expression on his face was unreadable, and I couldn’t seem to get my brain to process the fact that he was standing in front of me. It took all of my brainpower to utter, “Hi.” Then the rest of my thoughts fizzled out completely.

He pushed off the door, and stood in front of me with his hands in his pockets. My traitorous eyes traced from his arms to his shoulders to the straight edge of his jaw before I managed to get myself under control.

If just seeing him could affect me like this, how was I ever going to survive the holidays with him at my parents? I looked up, and he smiled like there was no painful history between us, like he wasn’t dying just from being in such close proximity. It took all my strength to resist touching him, and he stood there, the picture of ease and comfort.

I stared, battling with myself until he cleared his throat and said, “You ready?”

Not even close.

33

Cade

When she opened the door, the sight of her undid me. Her hair was longer and so blond it was almost white. Her normal curls were gone, and it fell in long, straight sheets. My heart sunk because I thought she’d tamed her hair color to appease her parents. Then she turned to the side to gesture me in, and the light hit her hair through a window. It was not white, but a very pale purple.