“Empty the trash in the kitchen and you’re good to go. I’ll have Larry run the bus tubs through the dishwasher.” Devlin clapped my shoulder. “Not bad for your first week. You’ll be running this place in no time.”
I flipped him off. He laughed.
“Aspirations, Cade. Aspirations,” he said as he walked away from me.
We hadn’t always gotten along. There was a time we’d nearly beat the shit out of each other, and it wasn’t all that long ago.
I strolled to the kitchen, gave Larry my full bus tub so he could sort it out, and went to three heaping garbage cans full of discarded food and buzzing with flies. I closed the first trash bag, holding my breath at the stench.
Hauling it out of the can and muscling it to the back door, I sent a scowl to that asshole Hamilton who worked behind the line. He was one of those big, dumb types who I could already tell was trouble. And when his eyes narrowed on me, I guessed he was the type dumb enough to bring trouble my way.
He’d regret it.
I may not be able to string a sentence together without faltering, but I could beat his ass without breaking a sweat.
I flipped the lid on the bin outside, tossing in the garbage and wishing I were anywhere but here.
Tasha came to mind again. Her, on my couch, but this time I was next to her. She smiled, looking at me with both admiration and desire.
The image was one I wanted to be real.
Tasha
My father’s voice echoed in the wide marble foyer the moment I stepped into the house. Sounded like he was on the phone with a client. The house was cold, its size and materials doing a great job keeping out the heat. It was the perfect home for my father. He was equally cool and hard.
Since his office was at home, he was usually here. Except for when he was flying off to a meeting at one end of the country or the other.
“Natasha,” he repeated, greeting me with my full name. His cellphone was in one palm, his graying eyebrows pressed over cold, dark eyes. “Your package.”
He handed me a small cardboard box.
“Feels light for textbooks.” He was displeased with me. He was normally displeased with me. It was getting hard to tell why.
“They’re not textbooks.” We had a minor stare-down that ended with him blinking first.
“Are you still having therapy sessions with Caden?”
“Once a week,” I answered, wishing I were the kind of person who could lie and make it believable. I didn’t want to talk about Cade with Daddy. I didn’t want to admit that I had pretty much failed Cade since I started.
My father’s mouth compressed. “And how is it going?”
Unproductive.
“We’re making progress,” I said, cradling the box. I opened my mouth to tell him I’d be on my merry way, but then he spoke.
“My office.” He turned and stepped into the formal room. There were globes and models of ships, an anchor hanging on one wall. The mahogany desk and shelves were oversized and highly polished. Though my father worked at home and saw no one, he dressed in a suit every day. He wore one now.
I sat primly in a red leather guest chair across from the desk, resting my box at my feet and wishing I’d remembered to change my Amazon address when I moved away.
“What’s going on between the two of you?”
“Sorry?” I asked, legitimately confused.
“You’ve been going over there for four months. I called Paul Wilson today and he told me Caden isn’t saying any more than he used to.”
“I’m not sure what you’re implying,” I lied, knowing exactly what he was implying.
“How about the truth?” My father’s eyes were the same shade of blue as mine, only they were icy. And they froze me where I sat. I wondered if he’d ever been lovable. Why my mother had tied herself to him at age eighteen. Why I’d chosen to stay with him instead of leaving with her when they divorced…but I knew.