“Grams, I hope you didn’t give Miss Freda too much trouble this morning. I know how you like to turn up the soaps to tune her out,” I call out as I pull out my phone to shoot Lucas a text.
She doesn’t answer me, and I can picture her rolling her eyes and cursing under her breath.
“That damn woman never hushes her blessed mouth.”
“Grams?” I call out again when she doesn’t answer.
I grab the remote off the recliner and tap the power button to silence the infomercial echoing through the house. I toss the remote on the coffee table and walk down the hall toward Grams’s bedroom.
The next few seconds come to me in wicked bursts. Indelible flash frames of heartache and anguish.
Flash.
A slipper-covered foot sticking out of the bathroom into the hallway, toes facing down.
Flash.
The incessant, grating sound of a phone left off the hook, the call never made.
Flash.
A smear of blood on the corner of the cracked Formica counter.
Flash.
Grams, face slack, arms twisted in an unnatural angle, and blood trickling from her temple, in a heap on the bathroom floor.
Then everything goes dark…
“Sitting, Waiting, Wishing” by Jack Johnson
Present Day
I PACE IN front of The Courtyard, wringing my hands and plotting Alex’s death in the most creative ways I can think. Celia’s been here for over an hour, and I’m crawling out of my skin.
Speed dating. Are you fucking kidding me?
I replay Celia’s explanation in my head, but it doesn’t help to calm my nerves.
“Why does she need you to go with her? Alex is a big girl. She needs to put on her big girl panties.”
“Don’t be so mean, Cain. She’s had a hard time lately. That jerk from her past has her all twisted up, and she’s trying to move on. Sara’s dating Adam now, and Marlo … well, she’s Marlo. Enough said, right? She needs our support right now,” Celia explains.
I’ve never known Adam to have a girlfriend before, but his status unexpectedly changed a few months ago. A new volunteer at the clinic, Sara Preston, caught Adam’s eye, and things heated up quickly. Sara’s a great girl—easy on the eyes and fun to be around—and she’s quickly become a welcome addition to our make shift family. She, along with a couple of her friends.
Now, the jury is still out on Sara’s friends. I get along great with her artist friend, Alex. We’ve actually played a few rounds of golf together. She always beats me by a few strokes, which is quite a blow to my fragile male ego. She’s a pretty cool chick, so I let it slide. But now I’m on the fence again since she roped Celia into this speed dating shit.
Her friend, Marlo, aka Red-Lipped Nosy Girl From the Bar, is another story all together. I keep hearing her obnoxious little voice. “You’re never getting in there. Don’t waste your time.” What the hell does she know? And what are the odds that she would end up in my group of friends? The first time we were introduced, she gave me the universal “I’m watching you” sign as soon as Sara turned her back. Yeah, well I’m watching her ass, too.
“She needs support? Buy her a Hallmark card, bake her a cake. Don’t take her to spend time with greasy douchebags who want to stare at her tits. Tink, come on. This could be dangerous. What if one of these guys is a nightmare stalker?”
Or what if one of these guys is the man of your dreams? That’s what I really want to ask, but I keep that shit to myself. Hell no. That’s not gonna fucking happen.
“I think you’re overreacting, Cain. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time now. There’s nothing to worry about.” She sounds exasperated with me, and damn if that doesn’t piss me off.
“Yes, I’m aware you’re an independent woman and all that happy horse shit—”
“Happy horse shit? Cain Bennett, don’t make me—”
“But will you please ease my worried mind and let me bring you and pick you up. At least I’ll know you haven’t fallen into the clutches of Hannibal Lecter.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, fine!”
“It’s not Pete’s sake I’m worried about; it’s yours. Seriously, do you want to be part of a dress made of skin?”
“Cain!”
“’It puts the lotion on the skin,’” I say in the creepiest voice I can muster.
“I put my foot up your ass! How about that?”
People trickle out of the club, some paired up, others pissed off, none of them Celia and Alex. I glance at my watch and think about calling her and telling her to get her little ass out here. That may be crossing the line, so I start pacing again. I’m seconds away from barging right in there when I hear a familiar laugh. It’s about damn time.
“What the hell took so long? People have been filtering out of the place for the past fifteen minutes. I was about to go in and find you, Celia.” I try to dial back the irritation in my tone, but I’m not having much luck.
“I do not need a chaperone, Cain Bennett, so I suggest you cool your damn jets.” Celia stomps her foot and glares at me. She blows out a frustrated breath and gives Alex a knowing look.
“Damn. Look, I’m sorry. I was just worried, Cece.” I grab her hand and sigh in relief. Speed dating or not, she walked out alone. Score one for the big man … that’s me, the big man.
“I’m a big girl, Cain. There’s nothing to worry about. Will you take me home now?”
Is it wrong that I get a chub at the sound of her asking me to take her home? Fuck it; if having a chub is wrong, then I don’t wanna be right. I tuck her into my side, and squeeze her. I smile when she snuggles into me, too.
“Of course.”
After seeing Alex safely locked in her studio, we hop in my truck and I drive Celia home.
“Did you meet the man of your dreams tonight?” I ask, trying to sound light, not in the least bit concerned.
Celia sighs and rolls her eyes. “Of course not. And neither did Alex, which totally sucks. I wish she could find someone amazing to make her forget her asshole ex.”
I know exactly what Celia means. I don’t know the particulars, but Alex has been torn up about this guy, and I hate that for her.
“Maybe she needs to let go of the past before she can move on to something even better,” I suggest.
“Maybe,” Celia says, tracing the seam of her skirt, completely oblivious to how my statement could pertain to her.
“Oh, I did find a new volunteer for the clinic, though. I think he’ll be a great asset.”
“He?” I ask, sitting up a little bit straighter. I watch her reaction closely, searching for any sign that she’s into the guy.
“He’s just a volunteer, Cain.”
“Well … that’s good. I’d hate to have to search his fridge for body parts.”
She sighs and stares out the truck window. “No, no search necessary. I don’t think I’ll need you to search anyone’s fridge anytime soon, but thanks for the offer. It’s always been just me, and I don’t see that changing. It can’t.”