Caged Collection (Sixth Street Bands #1-5), page 24
Plans…
I took a bite of lukewarm mashed potatoes to keep from answering any more questions.
“Well, it is Thanksgiving,” Lily said, sinking into her chair with a frown. “People usually spend time with their families.”
Taking her hand, Cameron brushed a kiss to her knuckles. “We are family, baby. Blood don’t mean anything.”
Lily gave Cam an indulgent smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
I suspected the reason we were dining at this table instead of eating off TV trays in the game room had something to do with Lily. Growing up in one of the most prominent families in the country, she was used to grand traditions. Like sharing Thanksgiving with the governor and his wife at the Tennison’s mansion in Dallas.
Lily never talked much about her estrangement from her parent’s, but it was clear they weren’t happy with her life choices.
Quitting business school in favor of completing her degree in fine arts was enough for the Tennisons to cut Lily off—financially, at least. But after Lily graduated and moved to Austin to “shack up” with her rock star boyfriend, the shit really hit the fan.
According to Cameron, Lily hadn’t spoken a word to her mother, and her father’s communication was spotty, at best.
I could totally relate. If my mom didn’t put her foot down and insist I make the drive to College Station at least twice a year, I might never speak to my father again.
As if she could read my thoughts, Lily’s eyes met mine over the table.
“You didn’t want to spend Thanksgiving in College Station, Christian?”
With your family? She left that part out.
It was like the girl had telepathy or something.
“Cameron’s right,” I said, giving her a wink. “Family doesn’t always mean blood. Besides, you’re a much better cook than my mother.”
Lily bit her lip, as if she wanted to say more. But she let me off the hook, steering the conversation to the Christmas tree lots that had sprung up overnight within a few miles of the house.
“We can’t go get the Christmas tree right now, baby,” Cameron whined, looking at his girl like she’d grown a third head. “The Cowboys are about to play.”
Lily snorted. “Like that makes a difference. I’ve got a better chance of getting to the Super Bowl than Tony Romo.”
Cameron’s face paled at Lily’s blasphemy. “We’re nine and one,” he choked. “Romo’s not even playing. We’ve got to watch the game.”
“I vote we get a tree,” Logan piped up, shoveling stuffing onto his already teeming fork. “We can watch the Cowgirls anytime.”
“You don’t have a vote, asshat,” Cameron growled, his hazel eyes narrowing.
“Yes, he does,” Lily interjected, inching her way to Logan’s side for moral support. “It’s his Christmas tree, too.”
Lily took Cameron’s statement to heart about us being family. And from the looks of it she was determined to make our holidays as traditional as she could, given the band of misfits she had to work with.
Sean, quiet until now because he was too busy stuffing his face, tossed his napkin on the table and said to Lily, “Damn that was awesome, girl. You sure can cook.”
A deep crevice etched her brow as she stared at the few small bones on his plate.
Sean’s appetite was legendary. All you could eat buffets had been known to shutter their windows when they saw him walk through the door.
“Was the turkey dry?” Lily asked, wringing her hands. Before Sean could answer, she swung an accusing gaze at Cameron. “It was dry. I knew you left that damn bird in for too long.”
“I did not,” Cameron protested. “It’s got a little button thing. I took it out as soon as it popped.”
Logan snickered. “That’s what she said.”
In a flash, Cameron’s hand shot out to slap the back of Logan’s head. Logan responded by tossing his half eaten roll at Cameron’s face.
Hunched over my plate, I hoped the impending melee would spare what was left of my dinner. Not that I was hungry anyway.
“The turkey was perfect,” Sean cut in, prying Cameron’s hand from Logan’s collar. “I’ve got to save some room for supper at Aunt Melissa’s.” His smile widened. “But I’ve got time to help y’all pick out a tree before I go.”
A satisfied smile curved Lily’s mouth. “I’m going to get you a slice of my famous pumpkin pie for that, Sean.”
Since Cameron wasn’t through sulking, Lily leaned in to drop a kiss on his cheek on her way to the kitchen. When he captured her mouth instead, two minutes of smacking noises ensued, which did nothing for my queasy stomach.
Releasing Lily, Cameron waited until she was safely tucked in the kitchen before turning his white-hot gaze on Sean. “Way to have my back, asshole.”
Sean barked out a laugh. “You know you’re going to get the girl a tree.” He smiled around his next swig of beer. “You’re so fucking whipped, you can’t deny her a thing. Don’t even front.”
Cameron shrugged, because really, what else could he do? Sean was only speaking the truth.
I managed to choke down a few more bites before excusing myself from the table.
Dropping onto the sofa, I turned my phone over in my hand as I watched the coverage of the Cowboys game.
Sighing in frustration, I gave in and tapped out a text to Mel.
Happy Thanksgiving.
After waiting a few minutes for a reply that never came, I shoved the device in the pocket of my jeans so I wouldn’t be tempted to send another message. As I retracted my hand from the worn denim, my fingers brushed against the metal fob with the single key attached.
I’d cajoled Mel into giving me her key a couple days ago under the guise of making her dinner. Not that I didn’t intend to give it back. I wasn’t turning into a stalker or anything.
Running my thumb over the metal grooves, I had my doubts.
“Game started yet?” Logan called as he entered the room. Joining me on the couch, he cast a suspicious eye in my direction. “What’s that look about?
Ignoring his query, I pocketed Mel’s key, smiling wide as Lily glided through the door with Cameron close behind.
“Did we decide on where to get that tree?” I said, shoving to my feet. “I’m ready whenever y’all are.”
11
Standing at the foot of the stairs leading to Mel’s apartment, the five foot Douglas fir Christmas tree balanced on my shoulder, I cursed my stupidity. The lot had a delivery service, but made it clear they wouldn’t be making any runs tonight. So I decided to go it on my own, telling the attendant to wrap it up and put it in the bed of my truck.
The guys didn’t bat an eyelash, because of course, they’d assumed I was buying the tree for myself. Only Lily picked up on the obvious.
“That tree looks a little small,” she’d noted, blinking up at me with doe eyes. “Unless you’re going to put it in the bathroom or something.”
She was right. The ceilings at my place were twenty feet high. But I’d already calculated the space Mel had in her tiny living room and the little Douglas fir I picked out was pushing it. Not to mention the problem I was now facing—getting the damn thing up the narrowest stairwell known to man. Gripping the bag of ornaments I’d picked up at Wal-Mart, I let out a sigh and then began my ascent. By the time I made it to Mel’s landing, my hands were full of sap and I’m pretty sure I’d busted more than a couple of the delicate glass bulbs by cracking the bags against the walls in the narrow passageway.
Propping the tree against the wall next to Mel’s door, I dug into my pocket to fish out her key. When soft noises drifted from inside the apartment, I stilled.
“Very late.”
That’s the vague answer Mel had given me when I’d asked her how long she’d be busy with her “plans.”
Before I could think better of it, my fist shot out to bang against the flimsy wood.
The look on Mel’s face when she found me on the stoop was like a punch to the gut.
“Christian.” She hurried onto the welcome mat, pulling the door closed behind her. “What are you doing here?”
What the fuck was I doing here?
I glanced over Mel’s flannel pajamas, messy hair, and freshly scrubbed face. Since my voice was trapped behind the lump in my throat, I motioned to the Christmas tree.
“I, uh,” clearing my throat, I rubbed the back of my neck, “was going to surprise you. But I guess I was the one who was in for a surprise.”
Mel’s lips parted, then closed. When she tried again with the same result, I gave her a wry smile and then turned on my heel.
“Have a good night, Melody,” I called, taking the steps two at a time.
The blood pounding in my ears wasn’t loud enough to drown out the sound of her bare feet slapping the concrete behind me.
“Christian, wait.”
Wait?
Not a chance. I sucked in a deep breath, resisting the urge to sprint. Mel’s voice got closer, more insistent.
“Please!” Jogging to my side, she grabbed my arm. “You don’t understand.”
As she stood there, trying to catch her breath, the white-hot anger bubbling beneath my skin boiled over like a simmering cauldron.
“You’re right, I don’t understand. You told me you had plans.” I flicked the sleeve on her worn T-shirt. “Obviously, you don’t. If you wanted to be alone, you just had to tell me. I would’ve understood.”
My fit of rage belied the point. Because I didn’t understand. I wanted to spend the day with Mel. Wanted it so bad, I planned this little surprise so I’d have an excuse to steal a couple of hours with her when she was finished doing whatever it is she had to do.
Which, from the looks of it, was nothing at all.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Mel let out a frustrated sigh. “I do have plans. I just…I can’t…”
Watching her struggle to let me down easy was more than I could bear. We’d made a silent vow to keep it casual, and I damn well intended to live up to it.
“I get the picture, angel.” I shook off her grip. “Enjoy the tree.”
Resuming my trek to the parking lot, Mel followed, struggling to match my brisk pace.
“There is no picture. I didn’t want to ruin . . . I mean . . .” Clearly exasperated, her fingers circled my bicep as she ground to a halt. “Will you wait a fucking minute? I’m trying to talk to you.”
Since ripping the girl’s arm off wasn’t an option, I complied. When she didn’t say anything after a long moment, I let out a sigh.
“Mel, it’s fine,” I said evenly, hoping to appeal to her logical side so she’d stop trying to make up excuses. “You don’t owe me an—”
Catapulting herself into my arms, her mouth crashed into mine with brute force. She thrust her tongue between my lips, seeking mine with wild abandon. Seizing control, I cupped the back of her neck and pulled her closer, letting her sweet taste wash away some of the anger.
When I couldn’t sustain the kiss any longer, I stumbled back a foot, panting.
“Damn, angel.” I ran my thumb over my bottom lip, checking for blood. “Is this the only way you know how to win an argument?”
“I wasn’t the one arguing.”
She was right, of course. As she tucked a fallen strand of hair behind her ear, I noticed the ink staining the side of her hand. Embarrassment filled the void where the anger had been. Fuck. She was graduating in two weeks and all I was thinking about was our nightly hook up.
I forced a smile as I ran my thumb over her kiss-swollen lips. “I know you’ve got to study. Give me a call when you want some company.”
I pressed a quick kiss to her forehead and then turned to leave but she didn’t release me.
“I already have company,” she blurted.
Lily’s pumpkin pie worked its way to the back of my throat. “You do?”
Toeing a groove in the sidewalk, she wouldn’t look at me.
The sting from her rejection hurt like a bitch, but I managed to keep it light as I told her, “I’ll let you get back to your guest then.”
I barely took a step before her small voice rose behind me. “She’s not a guest. She’s my nana.”
I spun around, confused. “Your nana?”
Squinting, Mel looked around, her gaze shifting to the trees, the parking lot, anywhere but my face. “She lives in a nursing home a few blocks from here. She’s got a neurological disease—incurable.”
Mel folded her arms around her waist, clutching the sides of her shirt before she continued. “Remember how I told you I used to work at a nursing home?” Her eyes met mine for confirmation and I nodded. “Well, I still do—fifteen hours a week. The pay is shit, but my discount just about covers what Medicare doesn’t. They specialize in diseases like hers.”
She tipped her chin, jutting out her bottom lip. “And just so you know, that’s the only reason I turned down your invitation to go to the Parish. Nana can’t speak, but she knows everything that’s going on. I can’t miss a day, unless she knows beforehand. Since you told me about the show that morning, I didn’t have time to make plans. She would’ve been waiting for me.”
Somehow during her speech, I’d closed the distance between us.
Molding my hands to her hips, I looked down at her, confused. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She shrugged, her usual posturing cast aside. “Because it’s not pretty.”
“Life ain’t always pretty, angel. It’s just life.”
She nodded, a reticent smile curving her lips as she took a step back. “Since you’re here now, would you like to meet her?”
Tiny rays of hope pushed aside the storm clouds in her expectant green eyes. I bent to kiss her, stealing a little piece of the sun.
“Of course I want to meet her.” I gazed down at my beat-to-hell jeans and worn T-shirt. “I’m not exactly dressed to impress. But—”
She cupped my stubbly jaw, guiding my face to hers. “You’re perfect.”
Her smile was all the assurance I needed. That and the little peck she planted on my cheek. Before she could pull away, my fingers disappeared into her silky locks and I captured her mouth, softly this time.
She smiled as I nibbled away the last trace of cherry lip balm.
“Let’s go,” she said, taking my hand. “She’s probably worried by now.”
Mel’s blond hair gleamed like a halo in the fading afternoon light as she pulled me along. An angel, just like I always proclaimed.
Mine.
12
On our way up the stairs Mel babbled about her nana’s condition. But as we approached the landing, the door loomed ahead like a portal into another dimension. I hadn’t met a girl’s family since my senior prom. And even then, I only stayed long enough for the chick’s mother to fawn over my tux and snap a few pictures.
At the portal of doom, Mel turned to me, chewing nervously on her lip. “Did you get all that?” she asked.
I nodded dumbly, though I couldn’t recall a damn thing she’d just said.
When Mel slipped inside, I gathered the tree and the ornaments, wondering how in the hell I ended up here.
The answer came to me in a rush when I entered the living room and spotted Mel kneeling beside a gray-haired woman in a clunky wheelchair.
I’d come here to give Mel a gift, but instead she was giving me something more valuable: a glimpse into her life.
Propping the Douglas fir in the corner, I waited while Mel whispered softly in her nana’s ear. After prying the remote from the old woman’s hand, which took some doing, Mel swung her gaze to mine, motioning me over with a slight jerk of her head.
Hesitantly, I closed the gap.
The old woman still hadn’t moved, so all I could see was her profile as she stared straight ahead, clenching and unclenching her fists purposefully in her lap.
Tucking a finger under her nana’s delicate chin, Mel guided the woman’s face in my direction. Sparkling green eyes, worn by time and circumstances, met mine. The jade hue was a little dimmer, but the similarity was uncanny.
Drawn to the woman who had the eyes of an angel—just like her granddaughter—I took the final step and then dropped on one knee beside Mel.
“Nana, this is my friend, Christian.”
The woman jerked slightly and Mel’s irises lit like a thousand watt bulb, a wide smile breaking across her lips. I thought I knew all of her smiles, but this one I’d never seen.
My southern manners took over and I reached for her nana’s hand. “Hello, ma’am.”
The woman grasped my fingers with enough force to startle me. I’d met grown men with limper handshakes.
“I warned you,” Mel said to me out of the corner of her mouth. “She can’t control her grip. Especially when she’s excited.”
With a soft smile, Mel pried the woman’s fingers from mine. “Christian, this is my na—this is Marina Sullivan.”
Narrowing her gaze, her nana rasped, “M-mo.” Closing her eyes, she took a gulp of air, then repeated in a clearer voice: “Mo.”
Mel laughed at my confused expression. “She hates the name Marina, so everyone just calls her ‘Mo.’”
There was no mistaking the smile in the old woman’s eyes as she gazed up at her granddaughter. Something passed between them in the silence, and Mel snorted a laugh.
“Enough already,” Mel quipped, shoving to her feet. “You’re lucky I didn’t tell him to call you ‘Mrs. Sullivan.’”
Mo grunted, before shifting her eyes to the cup on the table.
With a mock sigh, Mel picked up the glass and then held the straw to Mo’s lips. “If you get drunk, I’m taking you straight home. That’s your second glass of wine.”
Mo took a sip and coughed, dribbling liquid on her chin.
Wiping the wine away without fanfare, Mel said, “Christian brought a tree. We’re going to need your help decorating it, so lay off the sauce, okay?”
The faintest smile ghosted the old woman’s lips as Mel turned her chair to face the wall where I’d placed the Douglas fir. Spotting the little tree, Mo jerked in her seat, her fingers working the fabric of her old gown furiously.
