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22
CADE
The ringing of a phone pulls me out of my sleep. My phone. Fuck. I’m not ready to wake up. Shifting a bit to pull my arm from under her, she turns over on her side away from me. Snatching my phone off the nightstand, I see that it’s Dustin. My brother has always been a morning person, but from the lack of sun shining through the window, I’m guessing it’s way too early to be up.
Clicking against the glass, I accept the call and fall back on the pillow as I say hello.
“Sorry, were you sleeping?” Dustin asks.
Squinting at the phone, I spot the time. “Yes. It’s 5 a.m. on a Saturday.” The night after a game and an even later night at the party and with Morgan, waking up at the ass crack of dawn was not on my agenda.
“Well, I wanted to see what you’re up to today. I’m going to Baton Rouge for the LSU game. A buddy of mine gave me some tickets, and I wanted to see if you’d be up for tagging along.”
Dustin is never happy about going to watch football, and I highly doubt he’s simply wanting some brotherly time. “It’s just you going?”
His hesitation answers for him before he responds, “Not exactly.”
“Yeah. I’m gonna pass. Have fun.” Before I can hit the screen to end the call, Dustin pleads with me.
“Please, Cade. I only accepted the tickets because I thought the two of you could hang out at the game without the pressure of making conversation. Just watch the game and have a good time in the same space to start off. I know you don’t want to do it for him. But will you do it for me?”
The guilt trip on this one rubs me the wrong way. I started playing ball because of Dustin’s pleas and all hell has broken loose since that day. “It’s not about you. I don’t want anything to do with him and still don’t understand why you would.”
“He’s our dad. And I really think he’s changed. Seriously. If you’d been around the last few weeks and given him a chance, you’d see things are different.”
My eyes snap closed as my fingers rub over them, the image in my mind making my teeth clench. I still remember, clear as day, seeing my brother cry and beg my dad to stop hitting me. Which he did, long enough to go after Dustin. “I really hope he has. But he’ll always be a worthless bastard to me.”
I hope for Dustin’s sake Dad really has changed. But I wouldn’t bet a cent on it. Randall Crawford was and always will be nothing but a vile excuse for a human being.
“Fine. But if you change your mind, let me know. You can even drive up there separate and meet us, if you want. That way, you don’t even have to be stuck in a vehicle with him.”
There’s no point in giving him false hope. “I won’t change my mind, but I do hope you have a great time.” Which is a lot to ask considering Dustin doesn’t even care to watch football. The damn sport wasn’t even a topic of conversation in our home until Coach King popped his idiotic idea into our life.
“Thanks,” he says pitifully.
I tell him bye and click the phone off before he can say anything else. Tossing the phone, it lands on the nightstand with a thud as I drape my arm over my eyes and lie in the silence. I don’t know how long it’s been before I feel the bed moving a little beside me. Before I even lift my arm, I know what I’ll see. It’s getting less frequent, but Morgan’s nightmares are still happening, and she thrashes around a bit. Usually, I try to wake her from them before she gets too worked up. But that results in her complaining that I woke her and she was trying to sleep, but I’d rather do that than let her run around in the darkness of her mind.
Moving over her, I drop down, giving her a soft kiss on her neck as she stirs a little more. “Morgan.” I brush my lips across her cheek to her ear. “Wake up.”
She shoves away from me with a groan. “Why can’t you just sleep?” But she knows why I woke her up.
“Let’s go get breakfast.” Because lying here isn’t doing either of us any good.
Slowly, she turns an eye to me. “Seriously, this again? Sex, Cade. That’s all it was.”
Fuck. I’m so tired of her pushing me away at every turn. “Yeah. We fucked. Now let’s go get something to eat. I’m hungry.” Not starving, but I could eat.
“Then go. I don’t want to.” She rolls away, turning her back to me, and pulls the comforter to her chin. But there’s still not her usual level of hate. No name calling, no insults. No fight in her. There will be plenty in a second.
Reaching across the bed, I grab the comforter, yank it off her, and toss the material she’s hiding behind on the floor.
“What the fuck, Cade?”
I move over her, a hand on each side of her head as I stare down at her. “What do you want, Morgan?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Well, you don’t want breakfast. So, what is it that you want?”
