Second Chance (16 page)

Elle lowered her voice. “No. I mean, I haven’t made plans. To come back.”

The phone was silent for so long that Elle thought they’d lost the connection.

“Excuse me?”

“Something’s come up,” she said. She hated how inadequate it sounded, but that was all she was willing to share at that moment. Especially with Cash laying in bed next to her.

“What kind of something?”

“Something that I need to attend to,” Elle said. “Here on the island.”

“I don’t think you understand, Elle.” Connie’s voice was firm, all business. “I’ve already told this client you would be coming. Accepted the job on your behalf.”

“I didn’t–”

Connie cut her off. “When you called the office and left a message with
‘good news,’ I assumed you were accepting the position. There’s no going back now.”

Elle felt her pulse quicken. A twinge of guilt stabbed at her. She’d said those words in her message and, up until that morning, she’d had every intention of heading back to Madison.

Until Cash Brady had burst back into the house.

And into her bed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I changed my mind.”

Before Connie could say another word, Elle pushed a button and ended the call. Wordlessly, she tossed the phone on the dresser next to her bed. It bounced and slid across the wooden surface, dropping to the floor.

“That must have been some phone call.”

Elle just nodded and settled back against the mattress. She drew the sheets over her and flipped on to her side, away from Cash.

He moved closer to her, throwing his arm over her midsection. “You gonna tell me what that was all about?”

She shook her head. She wasn’t going to tell him that she’d just thrown away the opportunity for a dream job. A position that would allow her independence and financial stability. A chance to prove to herself that she could turn her life around. On her terms.

And all because of him.

Tears stung the corners of her eyes and she blinked them away. His fingers traced gentle circles on her forearm and he scooted closer, pressing the length of his body up against her. She bit back a sigh. He felt so solid, so secure. So right.

“I’m glad,” he whispered against her hair.

“About what?”

His arm tightened around her. “Glad you’re not going anywhere just yet. Because I was wrong.”

She stiffened. “Wrong about what?”

“We still have unfinished business.”

“We do?”

She felt his head move against hers as he nodded. “Yeah.”

“What?” she asked.

“We need to figure out just what happened twelve years ago. And who was responsible.”

TWENTY-NINE

Elle sat at the kitchen table, her knees tucked to her chest, her feet resting on the edge of her seat, a coffee cup cradled in her hands. Cash hovered by the stove, a spatula in hand as he waited for the eggs to cook. She took a sip and tried not to stare at his broad, tanned shoulders, at the way his khaki shorts hung loosely on his slim hips. His hair was rumpled and he needed to shave but she’d never seen him look more handsome.

“You like yours sunny-side up or over easy?”

She swallowed a mouthful of coffee. “Over easy.”

He nodded and picked up the pan, flipping the eggs with precision. For a brief moment, she wondered how many other kitchens he’d stood in the morning after, fixing breakfast for a woman he’d just spent the night with.

She shook her head.
Stop
, she told herself.
He’s here. With you. He’s told you how he felt about you, told you he wants to figure out what happened. Be happy with that.

And she was. Sort of. She concentrated on pushing thoughts of Connie and the dream job she’d just turned down out of her head. She wanted answers, too.

He buttered two slices of bread, slid the eggs onto two plates and carried them over to the table. He set one down in front of her before sliding in to the chair next to her.

“This looks delicious,” Elle said.

And it was. She ate a forkful of egg and bit into the toast. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had made breakfast for her. Actually, she could.

Her grandmother.

“So,” she said, setting her fork down.

Cash chewed and waited.

“My mother,” she said.

He grimaced. “What about her?”

“Well, I think it’s pretty obvious it was her. Keeping us apart.”

He nodded.

“But why?” Elle asked, mostly to herself. “I mean, she didn’t know you. She’d never even met you. Why would she go to such great lengths to keep us apart? Sabotage our relationship the way she did.”

Cash polished off his first piece of toast and picked up the second. “I don’t know.”

She shook her head. “Me, either.”

“There’s one way to find out.”

She looked up at him and waited.

“Ask her.”

Elle flinched. She didn’t want to ask her mother. She didn’t know if she ever wanted to talk to her again, based on the discoveries she’d just made.

She told Cash this.

He scooped eggs onto his piece of toast and bit into it. “Right,” he said. “Totally get that. But how else are we going to find out? I called my sister last night. Before I came back here. She admitted to not giving me the messages, and for the reasons I suspected. Felt awful about it. But at least we know what happened on this end, you know? We need that same info from your mom. We deserve it. Just to know.”

He was right. She drained her coffee cup and set it back down on the table.

She took a deep breath and braced her hands on the table.

He covered one of her hands with his and she felt the butterflies rise up.

“I didn’t mean right this second,” he said, smiling.

She relaxed her grip on the table.

“I’ve never gotten a chance to have breakfast with you,” he said. “At least not after spending the night with you.”

Elle felt the heat rise up in her cheek. It was true. They’d talked about days like that. Sitting in Cash’s car or curled up on the sand together or huddled around a bonfire, they’d done their fair share of dreaming about the future. About going off to college. About vacations together. About spending nights—and then mornings—together. She allowed the memories to seep in and they came hurtling back at warp speed. She could see him, feel him, smell him, taste him.

Slowly, she came back to the present. Cash cupped his own coffee mug in his hands, his eyes locked on her face. She shifted under his gaze.

“It was good, right?” she asked, her eyes focused on the empty plate in front of her. “We were good.”

She wasn’t asking about sex. She was asking about them, about the couple they’d been twelve years ago before it had all been blown apart.

“Yeah,” he said. His hand tightened on hers. “Better than good.”

She nodded. “I’ll call her.”

He glanced at the clock. “Now?”

It was after ten. “Yeah,” she said. “I think I’m done with waiting.”

He nodded. “Me, too.”

She stood up.

“You need moral support? Or do you wanna do it on your own?”

“I’m alright,” she said. “Just…will you wait? I mean, not leave? At least until I get off the phone with her.”

He looked at her, his eyes full of so much tenderness that it made her heart ache. “I’m not going anywhere, Elle. Promise.”

THIRTY

Her mother picked up on the first ring.

“Elle.”

The words froze in her throat as she sank on to her bed.

“I assume you’re calling with an update.”

She found her voice. “What?”

“An update. On the house.”

“Oh.” Elle hesitated. She clutched the comforter with her free hand, knotting the fabric between her fingers. “No.”

“No?” Her mother’s voice was like ice. “Why not? I suppose it’s Cash. He’s no longer helping, is he?”

Elle felt her anger flare.

“No, he’s helping,” Elle told her. “Although I’m not sure why.”

“Because it’s his job, Elle.” Her mother’s tone was like that of a preschooler talking to a two-year-old. “He wants to sell the house. Make his commission.”

“You have it all wrong, Mother.”

“Oh, do I?”

“Yep. Just like you did twelve years ago.”

An uncomfortable silence hung between them. Finally, her mother spoke. “What are you talking about, Elle?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“The remodeling must be getting to you. Paint fumes or something. You’re not making an ounce of sense. As usual.”

“The letters.” Elle’s voice was controlled even though her heart was beating wildly out of control. “The phone calls.”

Her mother said nothing.

Elle’s eyes blurred with tears. She brushed at them, furious that her mother was the cause of them. “You’re the reason I never heard from him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. That boy is filling your head with lies. Again.”

“He’s not a boy, Mother. He’s a man. And he’s not the one who’s lying.”

Her mother remained silent.

“Why?” Elle asked, her voice a whisper. “Just tell me why.”

“Why, what?”

The raw hurt from all of those years ago bled back into her and flavored her voice as she spoke into the phone. “Why did you do it to me?”

“I…” Her mother’s voice trailed off.  Elle could imagine her sitting at the kitchen table in her home in Madison, her back ramrod straight in the ladder back chair, a frown positioned on her face. She cleared her throat. “I didn’t want you to end up like my mother.”

“What are you talking about?” Elle asked, more confused than ever.

“I didn’t want you to end up like my mother,” she repeated. Her voice was firm. Angry.

Elle’s anger melded with confusion. “What the hell does that mean?”

“More than you know, Elle,” her mother replied. “More than you know.”

THIRTY-ONE

Elle was still holding the phone, staring at it like she didn’t know what it was, when Cash walked into the room.

“You alright?” he asked, standing in the doorway.

“Yeah. I mean, no. I mean
…I don’t know.”

“I’ll take that as a no,” he said.

She stared at the phone, as if an explanation might ring in and explain itself to her.

The phone stayed quiet.

“My mother said she didn’t want me to end up like my grandmother,” she finally said.

Cash raised his eyebrows. “In what way?”

“She didn’t say.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Well, that really explains things,” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Elle nodded, replaying the conversation in her head. None of it made sense.

“I asked her about the phone calls and the letters,” she said, laying the phone down on the bed. “From you. Asked her why she didn’t tell me about them. And all she said was that she didn’t want me to end up like my grandmother.”

Cash walked over to her and sat down next to her. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either.”

She sat there, thinking, none of her mother’s words ringing true in her head. Why would she say that about her grandmother? She’d never spoken an ill word about her. She’d wanted Elle to remain close to her, to spend time with her, to not lose touch with her like so many people do with their grandparents.

And now she was telling her she was afraid she’d end up like her?

“Maybe she didn’t mean it in the way you think,” Cash said.

“How else could she mean it?”

“I think you’re thinking she means that she didn’t want you to be the kind of person she was,” Cash said. “But if that was the case, that would’ve come up a long time ago. She wouldn’t have wanted you spending any time with her if she thought she was a bad influence or something.”

Elle nodded, slowly, but unsure of where he was going.

“Maybe she means she didn’t want you to end up in the same kind of situation?” he offered, leaning back on his hands.

“Yeah, but what kind of situation?” she asked. “My grandmother was fine. At least as far as I knew. And I haven’t found anything here to tell me otherwise.”

He thought for a minute. “Your mom said she didn’t tell you I tried to contact you because she didn’t want you to end up like your grandmother. So, what? She didn’t want you in some sort of long distance relationship?” He paused. “Was your grandmother ever in a long distance relationship?” He shook his head. “I’m reaching here, Elle.”