Out of Turn (21 page)

“Are you going to be okay tonight?” I asked.

Blane gave a bitter huff of laughter.

I stiffened. “What’s so funny?”

“Even after everything I’ve done, how I’ve treated you, you’re still worried about me,” he said.

I frowned. “And that’s funny?”

Blane shook his head, his expression turning grave. “Not a bit. It’s tragic. For me. For you. For what we had. I knew you… know you… and I let myself believe…” He glanced away for a moment, then back. Our eyes met.

“I’ve wasted so much time,” he said baldly, “made so many mistakes. I’m damn lucky you’re even here at all, that you still care. But then again, that’s the kind of person you are.”

I was also the kind of person who had slept with his brother less than twenty-four hours ago and was desperately trying to pretend it hadn’t happened. I decided not to mention that, but my silence didn’t stop the guilt from rising like nausea in my stomach.

“I’m not a saint, Blane,” I said, looking at the floor because my guilt made it impossible for me to look him in
the eye any longer. “I just care about you—that’s all. I don’t like to see you hurting.”

Reaching out, he fingers brushed my uninjured check and I reluctantly lifted my eyes. “You were always too good for me, Kat,” he said. “It just took me too long to see it.” There was the lightest touch of his thumb to my lips, then he was heading back downstairs.

But I wasn’t too good for him. I was a horrible person keeping a painful secret.

My lips seemed to tingle from his touch and I just stood there, rooted to the spot, and berated myself for being too weak. Too weak with Kade, and too weak with Blane.

I took a shower and found the white nightgown I always wore when I stayed. My suitcase was sitting on my bed when I came out of the bathroom. I loved Gerard. I dug through it for my brush, pausing when I came across Kade’s shirt, the one he’d ripped off me last night. I pulled it out. Almost all the buttons were missing, torn off by Kade. I brought it to my nose and inhaled. Kade’s scent lingered on the fabric.

This was the first chance I’d had to be alone since realizing Kade remembered nothing about last night. Now I allowed myself the full range of my emotions. I didn’t know what I’d been thinking, why I’d done what I’d done. Had I thought that just because Kade had said he loved me, that made all the difference? That my life would take a different turn, or that Blane would ever allow it? If so, I’d been very much mistaken, not to mention stupid. And it didn’t really matter what I’d thought last night—all of it was gone, fizzled like morning mist in the unrelenting Nevada sunshine.

A shudder went through me when I imagined what Blane would do if he ever found out.

I refused to cry. It was my own fault for letting it happen. Regret played second fiddle only to the guilt, and on top of that was an overwhelming and unexpected sadness.

And I could never tell Kade. How would I even begin that conversation?

I know you don’t remember any of it, but we made love last night, and it was amazing. Wonderful. A night I’ll never forget. You said you loved me.

I wondered when Kade had last told a woman he loved her.

I should get rid of the shirt, I knew—it was evidence of a night best forgotten. Instead, I found myself carefully folding it, then putting it in my suitcase before setting the whole thing in the back of the closet and crawling into bed. I was lucky Kade didn’t remember anything, I told myself. Seeing Blane and Kade still at such odds because of me was physically painful. Neither of them needed to know about my selfishness last night.

I’d stay here for a few days, do what I could to help Blane through this, then go home. Kade would leave, Blane would go back to campaigning, and I’d… be alone.

The pillow under my cheek grew wet, my self-pity all the worse in light of what had happened to Kandi. A good person? I felt like the good had been rubbed out by all the bad now inside me.

I didn’t go downstairs the next morning until I had on my full armor: makeup, hair washed and blow-dried, clothes. I’d found a little white denim skirt in the closet and a
navy-and-white polka-dot blouse with little straps, both in my size. When Blane and I had dated, he’d been adamant about buying clothes for me to keep at his house, hiring the same man who did his suits to stock my closet. I was glad of it now, as the clothes I’d bought in Vegas were woefully inappropriate for here.

The skirt was maybe a bit too big, given that I’d lost some weight, but I also found a belt to cinch it with. The shirt was made of a sheer, lightweight material, so I wore a thin cami underneath. A pair of strappy white, wedge-heeled sandals fit me perfectly.

My bruises looked better. The ones on my ribs were still dark, but the one on my cheek could be covered with enough makeup and my curtain of hair to hide it.

I didn’t know who I’d find in the kitchen. It was Thursday and Blane should have already been at work, but I had a feeling he’d be taking a few days off to deal with Kandi’s murder and funeral. I heard voices as I approached and when I stepped into the sunny, cheerful room, I saw that Mona and Kade were the sole occupants. The aroma of coffee and bacon permeated the air and I sniffed appreciatively.

“Good morning,” Mona said with a smile. “Hungry?”

My stomach growled. “Starving,” I said.

“Well, sit down. I’ll get you some breakfast. Blane left for work earlier but said he’d be back after lunch.”

While she busied herself at the stove, I poured myself a cup of coffee, catching Kade staring at my legs as I walked over to the table where he sat. His gaze moved to meet mine, but I had a hard time looking him in the eye. I gazed at my coffee instead.

He was wearing jeans, boots, and a T-shirt. His only concession to the heat outside seemed to be that the shirt was short-sleeved, which I could appreciate. Seeing Kade’s arms on display was never a bad thing, and I eyed them covertly from under my lashes.

“Good morning, princess,” he said, giving me a half smile. “Sleep well?”

My dreams had started with a replay of the night in Vegas, which wasn’t bad at all, but ended with Blane and Kade beating each other to a pulp, which was. I’d shouted at them and cried. Gee, I wondered if I could get someone to interpret that one for me.

I forced a fake smile. “Like a baby,” I said.

He rolled his eyes. “You are such a shitty liar.”

Mona set a plate of food in front of me, distracting me immediately. I loved breakfast food and didn’t give another thought to Kade’s comment as I dug in to the eggs, bacon, and toast. After a few minutes, I glanced over at Kade, who was sipping his coffee and watching me.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” I asked around a mouthful of food.

“Already did.”

“Mona, this is amazing,” I said to her. “Thank you so much.” It was such a treat to have someone cook for me. It never got old, and since my mom had died, I’d never again taken it for granted.

“You’re welcome, dear,” she said with a soft smile, giving me a little hug around my shoulders before leaving the room.

My nerves returned with a vengeance without Mona nearby as a buffer, and I didn’t try to talk to Kade anymore while I ate.

“I have class this morning,” I said after I’d cleaned my plate, getting up to put it in the dishwasher. “Can I borrow your car? Or can you drive me to mine?” A reprieve from both Blane and Kade would significantly decrease my stress level.

“I’ll take you to class,” Kade said.

I frowned as I turned back to him. “What? Why?”

“Blane can’t say for certain if the Gage situation is resolved,” he replied, his tone conveying exactly how he felt about that. “He delivered a warning, but neither of us is willing to risk it.”

“I don’t want a bodyguard,” I objected.

“Too bad.”

I glared at him, crossing my arms over my chest. “So you’re just going to tag along with my every move?” I didn’t know if I could handle that. Not now. Not with the weight of my secret pressing so heavily against my chest that it took effort to just draw breath.

“That’s the plan.”

“I don’t like that plan,” I retorted, echoing his words in Vegas.

He smirked appreciatively. “Consider me your private tutor,” he said.

I thought of the other girls in my class and how quickly they’d decide they needed “tutoring” once they got an eyeful of Kade.

Kade found a place to park on campus, then walked me to class. I caught more than one pretty passerby taking a
second look at Kade and wondered if he was checking them out, too. Not that I cared if he were.

Right.

“You can’t bring your guns in here,” I said in an undertone as we stepped inside the air-conditioned building. A sign was plastered to the door about no firearms allowed.

Kade raised his hands. “I don’t see a gun. Do you see a gun?”

His innocent act didn’t fool me for a second, but he just gave me his telltale smirk and followed me to class.

The summer session was nearly over, so the class wasn’t as full as it would have been during a fall or spring term. Kade and I found seats in the back of the small auditorium. Since I’d missed class on Tuesday and the final was next week, I asked a student nearby if I could copy her notes. She and I had spoken a few times before and she readily agreed. I began writing while waiting for the class to begin. Kade slouched in the seat next to me, his long legs splayed in front of him and his sunglasses hooked on his shirt.

His pose got me thinking and I asked, “So what kind of person were you in high school?” I glanced at him before resuming my copying. “I’m imagining you to be the guy in the back of class who was always smarting off to the teacher.”

Kade raised an eyebrow. “I’m hurt,” he said, pretending to take offense. “I was a model student.”

I stopped copying and just looked at him until he cracked.

“Okay, that might not be precisely true,” he amended.

“Shocker,” I teased. “You were that guy the girls whispered about, the one who never followed the rules, which
only made you more exciting and dangerous. How many teenage hearts did you break, Kade?”

He laughed lightly. “I think your imagination of me is much more interesting than reality.”

Somehow I doubted it.

“And you were the good, quiet, shy girl,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he studied me. “Always sat in the second row. Not the front—that would attract too much attention. Made good grades, but not like the cutthroat genius types who loaded up on honors classes. Went to the homecoming football game, but not the dance. Never had a curfew because you didn’t need one, because you weren’t the rebellious kind.”

I smiled a little at his perceptiveness. Spot-on so far.

“Your mom was your best friend,” he continued, leaning over his desk toward me as his voice grew quieter. “And you couldn’t stand to be in the same house, the same town, all alone without your parents, which is why you did something so utterly out of character as to sell the house you grew up in and move away from the only home you’d ever known.”

I wasn’t smiling now. It was no secret to me why I’d left home the way I had, but it was jarring to hear Kade spell it out like that and to realize… he knew. He knew exactly how it felt to be alone and lose everything that meant anything to you.

My wide eyes were locked on his and he frowned at whatever he saw in mine. His next words were barely more than a murmur.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

My breath froze in my chest and I felt the blood leave my face in a rush. How? How could he possibly know?

I was saved by the professor entering the room to start class. I could barely concentrate on what was said, though—Kade’s too-close-to-home psychoanalysis had me rattled. Not to mention his comment about what I wasn’t telling him. Kade had always been able to see through my lies. How was I going to keep the secret?

“What class is this again?” Kade whispered in my ear. His warm breath fanned across my skin and I instinctively jerked away, his proximity reminding me too much of when he’d been even closer in Vegas.

He gave me a what-the-hell-is-the-matter-with-you look as I stammered back, “Um… Criminal psychology.”

“This guy is full of shit,” Kade snorted.

The girl I’d borrowed the notes from glanced back at us with a frown.

“Keep your voice down,” I hissed at Kade.

“Are you listening to this guy?” Kade asked, making somewhat of an effort to be quieter.

I hadn’t really, no. My mind was occupied with other things. But apparently the question was rhetorical because Kade kept talking.

“All this crap about why criminals do what they do—it’s all bullshit. The whole my-daddy-hit-me-therefore-it’s-okay-if-I-abuse-little-kids or I-get-depressed-sometimes-so-let’s-kill-some-people.”

“Then how do you explain it?” I asked. If Kade had personal insight as to why people did bad things, I certainly wanted to know.

Kade looked at me. “Some people are born bad, and that’s just the way it is.”

I remembered what he’d said about himself while he was drunk in Vegas. We weren’t talking about your average bad guy. We were talking about Kade.

“Or maybe,” I said, “some people just think they’re born bad, but that’s not who they are. Not really.”