Once brunch was wrapped up, Cane paid and led the way back to his car. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I asked, buckling my seatbelt when we got inside it.
“If I told you, it would ruin it.” He push-started the car, wearing a faint smile. “You’ll figure it out soon enough. It’s a good thing you used the restroom before we left, though.” He pulled off, and I sank into the leather, deciding to enjoy the surprise.
Cane drove with a mixed shuffle of Drake, The Weekend, Miguel, Childish Gambino, and Kendrick Lamar pouring out of the speakers. The top of the Aston Martin was peeled back, the windows rolled down. I tilted my face toward the sky as we rode on the freeway, basking in the sun. When I dropped my head, I felt eyes on me and looked over. Cane was looking between me and the road ahead with a smile.
“What?” I laughed, pushing my hair back.
“Nothing.” His smile spread wider as he turned the music down a bit. “You’re just too beautiful for words. And you look happy.”
Heat crawled from my neck to my cheeks, and I grabbed his hand, bringing it up to my lips. “I probably shouldn’t feel so happy but…” I thought on my next statement, mulling it over. “Before, I felt like there was this gray cloud over my head with a storm building up inside it, day by day. I felt suffocated—like I was holding my breath, waiting for the day that cloud would get too heavy and break open, releasing the rain and thunder and even the crackles of lightning.” I let out a steady breath. “I hate how it happened, Cane.”
He kept his attention forward. “I know.”
Squeezing his hand, I brought it to my lips, kissing his inked knuckles. I kissed each letter, starting with the R. “But as fucked up as it was…if it hadn’t happened, we wouldn’t feel like this. Liberated. Free.”
His mouth twitched, a subtle smile taking over his lips. “All I want is for you to be happy and for things to go back to the way they used to be.”
“No.” The back of my head hit the headrest. “I don’t think things will ever go back to the way they used to be…but they can get better.”
That statement scored me a full smile. He revealed the top row of his teeth, glancing at me. “You’re right,” he agreed. “It can only get better from here, baby.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
KANDY
We’d reached an interstate sign that was utterly familiar. One I’d seen only yesterday.
I turned my head, putting my attention on Cane. “We’re going back to Georgia?” I asked, frowning.
He nodded.
“Why?”
“There’s something I want to show you.”
I was so confused. What could he possibly have to show me in Georgia that he couldn’t tell me? I prayed he wasn’t taking me to something relative to Kelly. Ugh. That would have been a buzz kill.
Forty-five minutes later, we were cruising on the freeway that revealed Atlanta’s skyline. I tried spotting the precinct where Dad worked but couldn’t see it from where we were. I did see the building Mom used to work at months ago, though. Sighing, I slouched in my seat as Cane kept driving. I really did miss them.
When he passed the exit that led to Kelly’s clinic, I was relieved. Then he passed the exit that led to his old house, the scene of the stabbing. More relief.
He continued driving, going further and further away from the city. Where in the hell id he going?
My curiosity only ratcheted higher as Cane took an exit and passed neighborhood after neighborhood, each one appearing more and more unsafe than the last. He took a left turn, and a large sign that said “Welcome to Cascade Heights” appeared. My brows stitched, and Cane slowed the car down.
There were a lot of people on the streets. Some guys wearing basketball jerseys and hats stood on corners, younger kids played basketball on a court, but the goal wasn’t made of a net. It was made of an old crate. There was one house we passed that had a bunch of cars parked on the grass and loud music playing. Men were on their porches smoking, and drinking large bottles of beer…during the middle of the day.
“Cane, where are we?” I finally asked as he took one more turn on a small street and slowed the car down even more. He parked in front of a house that looked like it was supposed to be white but was covered with graffiti and had broken windows and large holes in the roof. There wasn’t any grass—it was more like a yard full of dirt. The house was small, and pretty much in shambles. There were dark marks coming from the bottom of it, too, like it’d been lit on fire and then put out. It looked completely unsalvageable.