Chapter Fourteen

O nce Kasey got Amanda into his family’s beach cabin, he deftly helped her change into comfortable shorts and a t-shirt before leading her to bed. He did it with the detachment of a nurse.

Since walking out of the club, she was either throwing up or crying uncontrollably. Her sobs sounded like they were coming from somewhere deep inside her. Did she always take the anniversary of her parents’ deaths this hard? Why had she decided to drink tonight? And why the hell did she say her parents’ deaths were her fault?

What’d she been through?

When her weeping finally stopped, she fell asleep on her side, breathing heavily. Unable to stop himself, he brushed her bangs away from her face. She had such a beautiful face. She seemed so strong, but tonight he saw a break in her armor. A painful break.

Leaving the cabin, he stepped onto the deck and dialed Barry. Voicemail answered.

“Got Amanda. I brought her to my family’s beach house in Galveston. Thanks for calling me.”

When he reentered the house, he showered. Afterward, he put his clothes and Amanda’s in the washer. Hungry, knowing his family didn’t keep perishable food at the cabin, he found a package of ramen noodles, cooked them, and ate while quietly watching TV. Around midnight, he snatched a throw blanket from the couch, slipped into bed beside Amanda, and stretched out on top of the covers. She didn’t move. A slight hiss of breath filtering in and out of her nose had replaced her heavy breaths.

He wanted to scoop her up and protect her. Not let anything harm her. Dismissing his desire to hold and comfort her, he kept to his side of the bed. He’d be there if she needed him.

For now, that was enough.

~

A manda woke, her head pounding in time with rain drumming on the roof. She sat up and looked around, not recognizing anything. The room swirled around her. Her insides shrieked with pain. She moaned, crashed back down to the mattress, and curled into the fetal position. She wouldn’t move again until the Grim Reaper took her. Hopefully, any minute.

“Hi, beautiful,” Kasey softly said.

She kept her eyes closed. “Where am I?”

“My family’s beach cabin in Galveston.” Gratefully, he spoke barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think you wanted Mrs. G to see me carrying you into your house.”

“Good call.” Memories of last night darted through her mind. “Did I throw up on you?”

“It was the best thing for you.” He didn’t sound angry. “You got it out of your system. I’m sure you’re not hungry—”

Her stomach roiled. “I’m not.”

“You should try to eat this toast so you can take something for your headache.”

She didn’t ask how he knew she had a headache. Cautiously, she squinted her eyes open. Kasey held a paper plate in one hand and a glass of water in the other. She remembered how he’d coaxed her into drinking water last night. He’d been so gentle.

Gingerly, she raised her body and leaned against the headboard. The room had a white dresser and nightstands with dark blue curtains over the windows. Pictures of sea shells covered the walls.

He lit a lamp and sat beside her with a plate in his hand. He’d cut the toast into fours, such a sweet detail. She picked up a piece and brought it to her lips.

Kasey stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed them. His toes kept time to music she couldn’t hear. The movement caused the bed to jiggle. Her stomach and head protested. She reached out and put her hand on his thigh in hopes of conveying how much the movement affected her.

He stopped.

“Thank you.” She drank some water and ate more toast. The more she ate, the better she felt. Well, better was a lofty word. At least, her insides seemed to calm.

She lifted the last toast piece, and Kasey said, “Would you like more?”

“No.”

He left the room and came back with a bottle of aspirin. She held out her hand, and he dropped two into it.

“You should’ve been a nurse.” She swallowed the aspirin.

He smiled.

She sank onto the mattress and pulled the covers to her chin. “How did you show up at Tango Charlie’s last night?”

“The manager called your emergency contact.”

“Cartwright called Barry, and he called you?”

“He did. Barry asked him for my number from your phone.” His brows rose. “Evidently, you’ve spoken to your ex about me.”

No reason to deny that. “Didn’t really have a choice. In case you didn’t know, you’re like a big celebrity. The Star Breeze ran a picture of us together. His girlfriend saw it, and they both asked what was going on. I told them we’re friends.”

“I see.” He stepped out of the room. He didn’t seem mad or upset. Had her behavior last night completely turned him off? If that were true, would he still be taking care of her? Wouldn’t he have called Quinn for help?

Thoughts swirled in her head like a whirligig.

She closed her eyes, unable to process anything else.

Fatigue enveloped her, urging her to the darkness.

~

T he next time Amanda woke, her stomach growled. Her phone read three a.m. After brushing her teeth with a new toothbrush in a cellophane wrapper on the bathroom countertop, she took the longest shower of her life. She slipped into a robe hanging on the back of the door, and dried her hair with a towel as she walked down the short hallway. Two lamps lit the cream-colored living/kitchen area. The kitchen side had a long butcher-block island with stools and blue appliances. On the other side, two huge windows flanked a fireplace. A few chairs and two sofas faced a small TV. Big and small mounted stuffed fish hung on the walls.

Kasey yawned and sat up on the couch.

Embarrassed, she said, “I can’t believe I slept so much.”

Sleepy-eyed, he shrugged. “Aftereffects. You feeling better?”

“I am, thanks.”

“I went to the grocery store and loaded up on supplies.” Rising, he stretched his arms over his head before going to the freezer. He grabbed a freezer pop, cut off the top, and handed it to her. “Electrolytes. You need to rehydrate.”

“Aren’t these for children?” The cold popsicle tasted sweet and soothed her throat.

“They’re for anyone who needs to replenish fluids in their body. Trust me, these got me through college. I also got watermelon.” He pulled a cheese pizza from the refrigerator and preheated the oven.

“That looks homemade.”

“It is. I made it earlier.”

“I’m sorry to have missed your dough tossing.”

“You did miss a show.” He smiled. “Pizza’s good for a hangover.”

“Did I smell something cooking earlier?”

He lifted a green Tupperware container from the counter and opened it. “I baked my grandmother’s chocolate chip cookies.”

“Yum.”

Poor Kasey, he’d obviously had to do something to keep busy while being cooped up taking care of her. He’d done so much for her.

“Is my car still at Tango Charlie’s?”

“Cartwright assured me nothing would happen to it since you parked in the parking garage.” He nodded. “By the way, I washed your clothes, but there’s beachwear in the dresser in the room where you slept. People are always leaving clothes.”

While the pizza cooked, she changed into a flowery shirt and matching shorts, not wanting to put her work clothes on quite yet. Then they sat on the covered deck to eat. Strings of lightbulbs hung around the cabin supplied plenty of light. The ocean provided calming background noise. Far off sea gulls squawked.

Kasey pointed out different cabins and places on the beachfront. “After we finish eating, we can go for a walk.”

She wanted nothing more, but she couldn’t fall more for this man. “I believe I need to go to Tango Charlie’s, get my car, and go home.”

“At this hour? We’ll go after sunup.” Kasey looked at her, his gaze exacting and serious. “Do you remember what you told me last night?”

She tried to make light of the night. “I know I apologized a hundred times for throwing up.”

“Before that.”

“Kasey, I was wasted. I’m not sure what I said.” She crossed her arms. “It was the anniversary of my parents’ accident. I’ve handled it for ten years. Yesterday, well, Friday, it overwhelmed me.”

“What overwhelmed you?”

“The memory of the cops telling me what happened. The weeks afterward.” Her heart quaked in her chest. “I tried every trick I’ve learned to relax, but nothing helped.”

“There’s more. Last night you said your parents’ deaths were your fault.”

Her lips quivered, and she swallowed hard.

“Let me in, Amanda.”

“Let you in for what? You’ll be gone in two days. You expect me to bear my soul just for you to leave?”

“No. I expect you to trust me.”

“This isn’t a matter of trust.”

“Isn’t it?” He reached out, grasped her wrists, and uncrossed her arms. “You don’t need protection from me. I want you to feel comfortable, and I want you to open up.

Anxiety filled her. She got up and walked into the cabin. He followed. She sat in a chair, and he plopped down on a couch.

She owed him for all he’d done for her. “The explanation is a long one.”

“I have time.”

“Are you certain you want to know?”

“Trust me enough to tell me what happened.”

“First of all, I loved my parents. Love my parents.” Her voice cracked. “Please keep an open mind about them.”

“Okay.”

She wished she had confidence he wouldn’t judge them. “As I’ve already told you, we moved a lot. They were social workers and easily found jobs everywhere we went. They didn’t make much money. Said we didn’t need a lot.”

He listened intently.

Her gut cramped. “My parents enjoyed partying. When I was young, they’d bring me to nightclubs with them. I remember when I was about five, my dad placed me on the bar next to the drink station, and I ate the tiny chunks of pineapple, cherries, and olives meant for the drinks. Instead of getting mad, the bartender laughed. I learned to play pool at the age of ten from the owner of a club, a man who’d played professionally. I’ve played a lot of pool in my life.”

“I could tell.”

She sadly smiled. “In the eighth grade, we had a semester of health where they really promoted never drive drunk. That day I went to my mom and dad and said they couldn’t drive if they’d been drinking.”

“Good for you.”

“As a solution, they taught me how to drive.”

“How old were you?”

“Thirteen, almost fourteen.” She quickly went on, “I thought it was amazing. I would go to the bars with them and drive them home. I got a hardship license at fifteen, and I’d bring them wherever they wanted to go. Sometimes, I’d go back to our apartment and pick them up at closing time. Other times, I’d sit in the car and do my homework, read, or go inside and play pool or darts. I’m good at darts too.”

He looked stunned.

“Until my sophomore year, I didn’t realize they liked to drink during the day as well. We moved so much because they couldn’t hold down jobs.”

She got up and paced. “My senior year in high school they cleaned up their act. They were getting established in their jobs and loving their work. They only drank in the evenings and on weekends and most of the time at home. If they did go to a club, I’d transport them.” She rubbed her forehead. “Before I left for college orientation, I made them promise if they went out, they’d call a cab or an Uber. They assured me they wouldn’t go out.”

Her heart squeezed as if in a juice press. “That Friday night, they were in a head-on collision with another car. My father’s fault. He was the drunk driver. The man in the other car will be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life.”

Kasey sat forward.

“I know you’re going to tell me, ‘This isn’t your fault. There’s no reason for you to still be holding onto this guilt. You’re not responsible.’ I’ve been through counseling. I understand,” her voice caught. “I understand it was their choice, and I had no control over the situation. But if I’d not gone to orientation, I’d have been there. They wouldn’t have—” She couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t get her words out—too close to tears, too close to the pain.

He didn’t move. What is he thinking? Why didn’t he say anything?

She started for the bedroom.

He reached out and clasped her hand. “Please, don’t go. I’m trying to find the right words.” He tugged on her hand until she sat beside him, and he faced her. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. When I say strong, I mean tough. You had to be to get where you are in life. You were alone at eighteen. I can’t imagine. I don’t know how you survived, much less thrived the way you have.”

He slowly linked their fingers together. They sat on the couch like that for the longest minute.

“Makes me grateful for my normal childhood.”

A spike of hurt jammed through her. She snatched her hand away from his.

“What did I say wrong?” he cautiously asked.

“When I was a kid, I thought my childhood was normal.”

“I can see that.” He calmly put a hand on her thigh. “You have a psychology degree and master’s in counseling now though. You know it wasn’t.”

She wanted to argue so badly. Instead, she murmured, “You can’t possibly understand.”

“I understand.” His voice sounded neutral, but his eyes were intense. “You feel responsible for your parents’ deaths and for a man who is confined to a wheelchair because you were responsible for your mother and father since you were a kid.”

“Please don’t judge them.” She wiped the wetness from her eyes, the crushing pain in her heart almost unbearable.

“Why didn’t you ever tell anyone what was happening? A school counselor, someone.”

“Why would I? They’d been drinkers my whole life. I thought all parents got shitfaced every day.”

He softly asked, “Weren’t you scared to drive around at night?”

“When they taught me to drive it’d been at night. I’ve always been independent.”

“You had to be independent.”

“It wasn’t a big deal.”

His voice remained quiet. “Did you tell your therapist that?”

“I did. The therapists and Barry want me to hold them accountable.”

“Shouldn’t you? If a kid came to you and told you they were living how you lived, what would you do?”

Amanda sighed. “I wouldn’t tell them to be angry at their dead parents.”

He squeezed her thigh. “Okay. I understand being angry at them doesn’t help—”

“I’ve heard all the arguments, Kasey,” she interrupted. “Barry and my therapists have brought up everything you’re firing at me.”

“Well, they obviously didn’t reach you.” All of the sudden, his expression changed. He slipped from the couch and kneeled on the floor in front of her. He raised his hands and placed them on her waist. “I get it now. I get why you don’t want to get into a relationship with me. When you said you’ve never had anyone you can depend on, you didn’t only mean Barry. You also meant your folks.”

She bowed her head. Her body trembled like a jumbled heap of nerves.

“You, Amanda, more than anyone, deserve someone who will always, and in every way, have your back.” Then he surprised her by saying, “I want to be that guy. Right now, I can’t. I can’t quit my job and move here to see where our relationship will go.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“I don’t want to argue with you, but yes, you are.” His gaze bore into hers. “The only way you’ll explore whatever is between us is if I live here.”

She glanced away, hating the truth in his words.

He stood and went over to the window. “The sun will be up soon, want to go for a walk?”

“A friend is always good to have, but a lover's kiss is better than angels raining down on me.”

~ Dave Matthews