Page 62 of Level With Me
This weekend I’d nearly destroyed my body at the gym I’d been going to in downtown Quince Valley. I’d lifted and pressed until my muscles were a wobbly, shredded mess. But nothing could take the feeling away—a sensation of loss so strong it was like a knife in my chest.
And I hadn’t even lost her yet.
So this morning, when Cassandra had surprised me with my fishing rod, my heart had gotten lodged in my throat. Her smile was so wide that for a moment I forgot to take a goddamned breath. It was that smile I’d seen on the island; the candid one in the photo. I hadn’t seen that smile since we’d been working together. Sure, she’d smiled, but they’d been furtive, controlled smiles. Pinched off so as not to let herself get happy.
She couldn’t let anyone see her happy around me.
And that had finally made me snap.
It was my fault, I knew. I’d wondered for the thousandth time how things would have been if it weren’t for my fucked-up situation. Maybe she wouldn’t have wanted to be with me, but at least she wouldn’t be tempering her feelings. Hiding herself.
Or worse, blaming herself. When she’d said that thing about me being horrified at the thought of spending the night with her—when I’d seen the ways her eyes went wet, I hadn’t thought. I’d been filled with a flash of rage at the fact that our lives and situation had made her come to that messed-up and completely incorrect conclusion.
I couldn’t abide by that. I was sick of the secrets, sick of all of it. And I needed to show her.
The last thing I wanted to do now was go with Jude on this walk down to the clubhouse. What I wanted to do was take Cassandra’s hand again; but this time, not leave it at a furtive touch. I wanted to run away with her back to that secret room she’d brought me to that night. I wanted to peel the clothes from her body and spend all day showing her just how much I desired her. Showing her with my hands, my mouth, my tongue. My cock stiffened even now at the thought of her naked. Of all the things I wanted to do to her. God help me if anyone noticed, because walking through the grounds of the resort with a boner was not a good look. I glanced at her now. She looked gorgeous, with that purposeful stride and pushed-back shoulders. As she tucked a strand of her waves behind her ear, I nearly groaned in pain. I wanted to fuck her, to show her she was mine, all mine. Luckily, Jude was oblivious to my torture, and his words—along with his happy-go-lucky attitude—provided at least a little distraction. So did the cool air when we stepped outside. The sky was thick and dark and looked like it might burst at any second.
Just like me.
Cassandra’s phone buzzed as we reached the road, and she didn’t even glance at the screen before answering.
She needed a distraction as well as I did.
As she spoke to the person on the other end of the line, I had the oddest stroke of possessive jealousy. I wanted to be the one speaking to her. I put Jude between us because I knew if I could see her, I wouldn’t be able to pay him any attention. My mind, and every cell in my body, hummed a song strictly to the tune of Cassandra.
“So,” I said to Jude, needing to block it out—I was freaking myself out. “You have a son, right?”
“Yeah,” Jude said. “Jack.”
Jude blessedly filled the rest of the short walk to the clubhouse by chatting about his three-year-old. Apparently, Jack had just figured out how to ride a glider bike and just this weekend had put his tooth through his lip careening down the driveway.
“Shit, is he okay?”
“Oh yeah,” Jude waved his hand. “That kid is bouncy.”
Jude seemed like the least likely of all the Kelly siblings to have kids, and yet he was the only one who did. I didn’t know the story, and it wasn’t exactly appropriate for me to ask, given it had nothing to do with my work. But I knew the mom wasn’t in the picture.
“Check it out.” Jude pulled up a photo on his phone of an adorable boy with Gallic features—dark hair and straight-across brows over big brown eyes and a sharp nose. A good-looking kid, but so different from his all-American blond father with his easy smile.
“See?” Jude said. “Only two stitches.”
“Jude!” Cassandra exclaimed, hand on her mouthpiece, her eyes on the image. “Why didn’t you say anything? Is he okay?”
“He’s good,” Jude said.
Cassandra shot her brother a look, then her eyes landed on me. A new streak of need shot through me, and I clenched my hands in my pocket. She turned away fast, returning to her call.
Jude, meanwhile, shoved his phone back in his pocket. “This is why I don’t tell my sisters shit.”
He smiled as he said it, but there was an undercurrent of defensiveness in his words. I recalled him showing up for our first meeting looking kind of hungover; and how his siblings had made some kind of comment about him being irresponsible.
“My brothers and I broke or bashed up pretty much every part of our damn bodies growing up,” I said, hoping to alleviate what I was pretty sure was guilt on Jude’s part.
“So did we,” Jude said. “Cass has just blocked that from her memory.”
Despite the admonition and eye rolling, the two siblings did seem to get along well enough. I’d learned in my time here that Jude was the second youngest in the family, and I guessed he was less like a peer to Cassandra than a charge. My youngest brother Mitch had been the same in my family—he’d been an accident on my parents’ part—a happy one for Mom, not so much for Dad. Mostly when I looked back on our childhood, I remember him being young enough I had to babysit him rather than play with him.
“Where are your brothers now?” Jude asked, interrupting my thoughts. Cassandra, listening on her phone and saying the odd word, looked up, her eyes on me.
