17
Brent looked down at the text message containing Candace’s address. Travis had given it to him and promised he wouldn’t tell Jessica. Brent had no idea how long he’d keep that promise, so he wanted to get over to her place before Jessica told Candace.
The way things ended with Candace wasn’t how he planned. The roads had cleared, and he left before he could think things through. Despite everything that happened between them, the comments Candace made had stung. He would have figured they were friends after everything, but clearly he hadn’t been able to redeem himself.
Now he needed to show her he was better than what she thought. They were perfect together. She could take his sense of humor. They had been through similar situations with loss. They understood each other.
And the sex. Wow!
Mind-blowing sex.
They could feel each other and knew the way to move. Her body fit perfectly with his. The chemistry was unlike anything he had ever felt.
He knocked on her front door and waited. It had been four days since he left Wintervale. A few minutes passed, and no one answered. He leaned over and peeked through the window. The lights were on and it looked like someone was on the couch.
“Candace? It’s me, Brent,” he called through the door.
“Brent?” she asked, sounding puzzled. “There’s a key under the flowerpot.”
He pushed the pot aside and picked up the small metal object lying on the ground. He unlocked the door and then put the key back where he found it before stepping inside.
Candace was lying on the couch with her foot elevated in its boot. She looked miserable. Her hair was a mess and her face was streaked red as if she had been crying. Food wrappers littered the coffee table and a few empty cups sat in the middle of the table.
“Hey. Are you okay?” he asked.
“Great.” Her sarcastic tone was exactly what he expected, especially after the way things had been left.
He motioned toward the table. “I mean, you look…”
“Terrible?” she asked.
He cringed. It wasn’t what he meant to say, but that was certainly how it sounded. “I was going to say ‘uncomfortable.’”
She rolled her eyes. “No, you weren’t.”
“No, I wasn’t,” he conceded. He took a step toward her. “Are you feeling okay?”
“What does it look like?” Her sarcastic tone bit at him.
“Candy, let me help,” he said softly. “What can I get you?”
Her bottom lip trembled, and he stepped forward, sitting beside her and pulling her into a hug the best he could. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him to her, letting out a shaky breath.
“Honestly? I really need to pee, but it’s hard to get to the bathroom by myself.”
Before he could stop himself, he laughed out loud. “What’s the best way to do this?”
“Help me stand, and then help walk me there. I’m not supposed to put any weight on my foot yet.”
“Do you still have the crutches?”
She smiled, sheepishly. “Yes, but they’re difficult, and I don’t like them.”
He helped her stand and wrapped an arm around her waist as they made their way toward her bathroom, with her pointing out directions as they walked. “So instead of getting used to the crutches, you’re just not peeing?”
“Don’t judge me.”
He laughed again and helped her over to the toilet before stepping out and closing the door behind him.
