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So Ellie wasn’t planned. And it appears Cayden never had feelings for Hazel. Could it be that a one-night stand or a drunken happenstance ended in a consequence binding them forever? Whatever the reason, I intend to dig, hoping it’ll unearth some light on my past.
“And you’re sure I wasn’t one of those outsiders?” I know I’m pressing him, but I can’t let this go.
Cayden nods as he leisurely walks toward me. With dangerously slow motion, he brushes a stray curl from my cheek. His touch lingers—just how it always seems to when we connect. “Yes. Like I said, you don’t belong on this side.”
“Well, I’m here now,” I counter once again, trying my hardest not to lean into his touch.
“Yes, you are,” he replies hoarsely, his eyes skimming over every inch of my face. This spark between us only seems to intensify with each exchange.
Taking a moment, I process what Cayden has shared. He may claim not to know me, but why does it feel like I know him? Yes, I come from an affluent family, but I refuse to believe I am anything like my mother or siblings. I may not remember, but surely, I wouldn’t be drawn here if I was.
“Oh, my God! Sorry.”
Cayden yanks his hand away from my cheek as if it’s been burned as Lacey almost loses her footing when she enters my bedroom. Cayden instantly retreats, his hands clenching by his sides. Has touching me caused him pain? It appears so.
“It’s fine. What’s up?” Cayden says, making me feel like a pariah when he moves to the other side of the room.
Lacey examines his distance, which was the complete opposite of what she just walked into. Clearing her throat, she holds up a tray of coffee cups and a brown paper bag. “I brought coffee and some donuts.”
“Did someone say donuts?” My already small room grows claustrophobic when the deliverymen enter, carrying my dresser. “I’ll just dump this, then. I don’t mind if I do.” He stands on tippy-toes, eyeing the bag Lacey holds close to her chest.
My digging for dirt is done for now, but for the first time ever, I feel like I’m where I belong. Which is ironic, considering this is contrary to what Cayden just said. “Seeing as you did such a good job with the bed, how about you take over?” I choose my words wisely, and it has the intended effect. “I trust you. I’m going to shower,” I conclude while a stormy gray swirls behind Cayden’s eyes.
Lacey looks back and forth, clearly confused, but Cayden reads my inner thoughts, loud and clear. He knows that I’m onto him. It’s apparent he’s hiding something, and I won’t stop until I find out what that something is.
“Lacey, honestly, you have done more than enough. I’m just going to finish up in here and call it a day.” But she stubbornly shakes her head. It appears pigheadedness is a Coachman trait.
“Never. No man will be left behind.” She smirks from over her shoulder as she holds the putty knife in her hand.
For the past few hours, we’ve been busy at work in my kitchen, slowly peeling back the hideous floral wallpaper. We’ve stripped it as best as we could, but the backing and remaining facing won’t budge. We’ve soaked the walls with hot water, attempting to soften the paste, but seeing as these walls have been coated since the 50s, it’s proving to be a lot tougher than we originally thought when we started.
I have no doubt there is an easier way to do it, but seeing as Cayden has been avoiding me all day, I’m relying on Google to fill in the blanks.
Once I’d showered and changed, I went into my bedroom. The furniture transformed it into my own private oasis. That tranquility lasted all of ten seconds before Cayden came in, toolbox and sledgehammer in hand.
“The wallpaper needs to be stripped, and I need to patch up the hole in the ceiling. The whole roof will need replacing, but this is a quick fix for now,” he said, intent on demolishing my serenity. But the thought of touching this room felt like he was taking that sledgehammer to my heart, especially since the hole would require him to cut out the plaster where the star twinkled brightly.
I objected quite fervently, using the precise words: you’ll touch this room over my dead body. A tad overdramatic, but that’s how strongly I felt. He produced a roll of plastic drop cloths, but the furniture was the least of my concerns. I had just moved in, and now he wanted to hack at it. Hell to the fuck no.
After our heated exchange, he marched into the living room, where he remained all day. Lacey and I took refuge in the kitchen, assuming the many tools on the floor were for us to use. We’ve done a good job, considering it has been the blind leading the blind, but neither of us wanted to get our heads bitten off, so we made do with the DIY videos on YouTube.
Our coveralls are covered in filth, but the sight is surprisingly rewarding. “Parts of my body I never knew existed ache,” I say, only half teasing.
Lacey cracks her neck from side to side in agreement. “I think we should celebrate.”
“Celebrate what?” I ask, scrubbing at a stubborn strip of paste.
“The fact that we’re still standing.”
Brushing away the hair from my brow with the back of my forearm, I can’t help but laugh. “I suppose that’s as good as an excuse as any.”
Stepping back, I turn in a slow circle, examining our hard work. The walls, even though patchy and coated in paste, are a work in progress, and I can’t wait to see the end result. A banging followed by a string of profanities has Lacey and me looking at one another, raising our brows. “Why is he so grumpy?”
Now is my chance to discuss my far-fetched hunch with her. Maybe she can validate my gut feeling? But I have already asked her, and let’s face it, her memory is a lot more credible than mine. But I can’t shake this feeling. The further Cayden retreated, the stronger it grew.
Chipping away at the wall like the chip on my shoulder, I reply as innocently as I can. “I think that’s got to do with me asking him about Ellie’s mom.” Her pause hints at Lacey’s surprise.
She expresses just how astonished she is a moment later. “You did what?”
