Dare to Kiss (The Maxwell Series Book 1) (21 page)

“Oh, no. You two are not going to plan anything.”

“Eat your dinner,” Kade said. “And stop freaking out so much.”

I stilled, the fork halfway to my mouth. His words cut deep.
Was he calling me a freak
? The last time he said something similar I’d punched him in the nose. Without saying a word, I set down my fork and stormed out of the kitchen before I did hit him again.

“Lacey,” he called. “Lace.”

His voice waned through the house as I found the one spot I went to whenever I was feeling blue, mad, or sorry for myself. I settled into an oversized chair in the sunroom, overlooking our backyard. The glass-enclosed room was cold and warm all at the same time. I imagined in the winter it would be freezing in here even though it was heated. Dad and I had seen pictures of this room on the Internet when we were house hunting. The snow had covered the glass rooftop and the trees outside were blanketed with it. I hugged a pillow and stared out at the sunny day. I loved the sense of safety and freedom the room gave me. I felt like I was part of the world, yet sheltered from all the harshness of it. I loved the beautiful scenery as the trees were turning the deeper colors of fall. It seemed that every day, green turned into oranges, reds, and yellows. If only my mom and Julie were here to see the beautiful palette.

Footsteps clomped on the hardwood floor. A fragrant hint of cedar wafted in before my guest did. Kade could smell like trash, and I’d still want him all over me.
Maybe that idea was a little over the top. You’re supposed to be mad at him
. Regardless, I inhaled, letting the aroma fill my lungs.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped from behind me. “I was just using an expression without thinking. I wasn’t saying anything about you.”

I squeezed the pillow a little harder, suppressing a shudder at the sound of his voice. I wanted to be mad at him, but his presence overpowered any resolve I had.

“Can I be that pillow?” he asked with a smile in his voice.

“Depends.”

A smidgeon of his manly frame reflected in the glass in front of me. He had his shoulder propped up against the doorframe. His toned chest strained against the white henley he wore. “On?” he prompted.

“How much of an asshat you’re going to be tonight.”

His reflection in the window blurred, and then he was sitting in front of me on the ottoman. “Now who’s being the asshat?” he asked.

“Go away, Kade. I’m sure the school will have a field day with me when I go back tomorrow.”

“Let them. Why do you even care? The girl I met that first night in the parking lot could not give a shit.”

That was what I wanted everyone to believe. I sometimes convinced myself, even. I was an emotional freak, thanks to my PTSD. Since my first day at Kensington, it seemed I was propelled back in time to nine months ago. Right after the funeral, I’d became a temperamental nut case. One minute I would cry, then the next I would lash out at anyone and everyone.
What happened to the girl who just wanted to play baseball, hang out with family and friends, and fly planes?
My brooding was shattered when he lifted me in the air and set me on his lap. I adjusted my legs so I was straddling him, my soft chest to his hard one. “How do you keep doing that?” I asked.

“Doing what?” He cupped my face with his callused hands.

“Kade—”

“Shut up, Lace, and kiss me.”

The guy was possessive and demanding as hell, but I didn’t run. I kissed him like my life depended on it. Our tongues tangled, merging into a warm and wet cavern of heated bliss. He tasted like mangoes and Italian dressing, sweet and tangy.

Kade’s hands snaked under my shirt, around my back, gliding up to my bra.

“Hey, you’re not getting what you want.” I grabbed his shoulder and pushed.

“And what do you think I want?” He held me tighter.

“A polar bear,” I blurted out.

“You are my polar bear, Lace. I meant everything I said to you yesterday,” he said with certainty.

“We should get back to dinner.” I changed the subject. I was still trying to wrap my mind around his declaration. Not to mention my own feelings.

He tipped his head. “Mary said she would keep the food warm. While we have some quiet time, I would like to know why you have panic attacks.”

I pushed away again. He drew me closer.

I’d planned on telling him.
So why all of a sudden did I have cold feet
? I’d told Becca my mom passed away. There were no details though.

“I hate to beg. It’s not in my nature. But for you, I’d do anything. I think I deserve to know, Lace.” His voice was soft, less demanding. “If I know more, maybe I can help.”

Dip your toe in the water
, Dr. Davis’s words roared. Kade had shared his painful story of how his sister died. Taking a deep breath, I climbed off him and he let me go easily. I made myself comfortable in the chair, even though this conversation was going to be far from comfortable. If I were going to tell this story, I needed my space. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“Doctors have diagnosed me with PTSD,” I said in a low voice, eyes downcast. I didn’t want to see any emotion on his face—at least, not right now. “I get flashbacks of that night.” An image of Mom’s beautiful, brown, lifeless eyes surfaced. A tear rolled down, and I shivered
. I couldn’t do this.

He dragged the ottoman closer so our knees were touching. “Baby, I’m right here. I’m not going to run.” His voice was warm and soft, helping to ease some of my anxiety.

He might not run, but I wanted to
. “I found my mom and sister.” I sucked in a ragged breath. “They weren’t breathing. They were covered in blood. Someone broke into our home and killed them. Now certain things can trigger a panic attack.”

“Like the dark house,” he said softly.

I nodded. “And Renee was a trigger yesterday. She looks like my sister with the color of her hair and eyes, but when she smiles the resemblance between her and Julie is uncanny.”

“Are there any others, baby?”

“I’m not sure I could handle seeing a lot of blood, not after that night.” I could’ve gone into more detail about what their bodies looked like, how I slipped in the blood and fell on top of Julie. But just picturing the scene caused the small buzzing sound to surface in my head. I didn’t want to risk a panic attack.

He lifted me onto his lap again, and a tidal wave of emotions poured out—sadness, anger, pain, grief. I buried my head in the crook of his neck and cried.

“Don’t leave me,” I whispered between sobs. It was the first time I said all that out loud to someone other than a doctor and the police. I hadn’t told my dad or my brother what I saw that night. They knew it was hard for me, and they didn’t want to hear the details. By the time Dad had gotten to the scene, the police had already covered the bodies.

He rubbed my back. “I’m not going anywhere,” he breathed with conviction.

I held him tightly, crying harder than I ever had in front of someone else. Sure, I’d broken down at the funeral, but not like this. Maybe it was the strength in his arms, in his words. No matter what, I didn’t want to let go of him.

I sat in homeroom daydreaming of Kade and the time we’d spent together. After I sobbed until my nose was raw and shared my triggers, I told him what I’d been like after the funeral. The conversation was quite cathartic for me. He’d been wonderful as he listened and held me. Throughout that evening, I started to get a glimpse of just how serious he was about me. Love blazed in his eyes. His tender kisses and gentle caresses warmed my soul.

The speaker in homeroom crackled, severing my trip down memory lane. “Ms. Vander, please send Lacey Robinson to Coach Dean’s office,” the lady’s voice blared.

What did Coach want
? He’d talked to Dad. Maybe he wanted to ask me questions about my locker since I didn’t get a chance to talk to him after tryouts. Or maybe he found the responsible party. Or maybe Principal Sanders and Coach decided not to let girls try out since they’d had problems with the baseball team bullying Mandy. My stomach churned as my throat went dry.

Ms. Vander peered over her reading glasses. “Ms. Robinson, you may be excused.” She wrote something on a slip of paper and stuck out her hand.

I guess that was my cue to get out of my seat.

The noise picked up in the cold classroom as students talked and whispered. I’d been getting weird looks from kids since I walked into school this morning. I wasn’t surprised—it was typical of my high school experience.

On my way to her desk, I accidentally bumped into a boy in the first row.

“Watch out, freak,” he barked.

I froze, standing next to him. A buzzing sound filled my ears.
Keep walking.
He’s not worth your time.
I released my breath, and the blood cooled. Reluctantly, I continued to Ms. Vander’s outstretched hand when all I itched to do was to beat the boy senseless. I quickly snatched the note from her and stormed out.

Once in the hall, I imagined me banging my head against a locker a few times.
Freak was simply a word. Right
?

So why did the term seep into my psyche, making me go ballistic
?

Stuffing my ire into my back pocket, I trudged through the school and over to the sports complex. A few boys lingered outside Coach Dean’s office. When they glanced up from their conversation and saw me, they scattered. I laughed, my voice bouncing off the walls. Were they afraid of me? At least they ran rather than calling me a nut case.

All my speculation on why he wanted to see me went out the window as I knocked on Coach Dean’s open door. I was suddenly embarrassed. He’d told me I was a good pitcher. My performance yesterday was anything but good.

“Ah, Lacey. Come in,” he said in a sweet fatherly voice. “Have a seat.”

What was up with the tender tone? Cautious of his intentions, I slouched in.

“Please, sit.” He waved a hand to one of the chairs.

“I’ll stand, Coach.”

“Lacey, I’m not going to read you the riot act.”

I dragged my gaze over his face. He’d trimmed his bushy eyebrows. Or maybe the bill of the ball cap he was wearing shadowed his features.

“I’d rather not have to look up,” he said, removing his hat, smoothing a hand over his head.

Shrugging out of my backpack, I set the heavy bag on the floor and dropped into a chair. The last thing I wanted was to get on his bad side. He’d told Dad the second round of tryouts was postponed. The doctor said I should be fine to resume physical activity in a couple of days.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“I’m better.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened at tryouts?”

“Coach, I’m sorry. When I found that my bag was missing, I panicked. Then on the field I was nervous.” My gaze flickered past him to the diploma on the wall. Coach had graduated from University of North Carolina at Charlotte, with a degree in athletic training.

“Let’s talk about your nervousness, first. I’ve been doing this a long time. I know when someone is nervous. And something else is going on with you. Now, if you don’t want to talk about it, I can accept that. But I need to know you’re healthy, and you won’t put yourself or anyone else at risk out on the field.”

“Did I hurt anyone?” I asked, sitting up taller.
Oh, God. Did I hit Renee with my pitch
?

“No,” he said. “But the risk is there.”

I lowered my shoulders. “Aside from my mild concussion, I’m healthy, Coach. I hadn’t eaten a whole lot that day.” I couldn’t tell him the real reason. I was frightened he wouldn’t consider me for the team, especially now after my blackout.

He studied me for a second. “Very well. I expect a better performance during the second round, which I’ve postponed until next Friday. As far as your locker incident, it’s clear someone broke into it. I’m still questioning people. Has anyone confronted you about not trying out for the team?” He leaned forward on his desk.

My jaw dropped slightly. I closed it quickly, hoping he didn’t read the truth on my face. I wanted to put Aaron in his place, but ratting him out wasn’t the answer. He would only increase his tormenting. Besides, I wanted solid proof before I hanged him, and it had to be more than “he said, she said.” I needed a witness. “Only Principal Sanders. Why?” I bounced my knee up and down.

“Trying to cover all the angles on your locker incident,” he said.

“May I be excused?” The longer I stood here the more he would figure out I was lying.

“I want you to rest this weekend. No pitching, running, or practicing. Complete rest. Is that understood?” He pushed to his feet, the chair behind him rolling backwards.

“No problem. The doctor said the same, anyway.”

He escorted me to the door. “I’m here if you ever need to talk.”

“Thank you, Coach.” I hurried out of his office before I did spill my guts to him. At the moment, his expression reminded me of Mary’s. Anytime she wanted to draw something out of me all she had to do was look at me with her soft brown eyes and her head tilted slightly. It was as though she’d cast a tell-me-what’s-bothering-you spell.

A lawn mower whirred as I crossed the area between the sports complex and the main building. The scent of freshly cut grass filled the air. Closing my eyes for a second, I inhaled, loving the smell. When I opened them, Tammy Reese was walking toward me with Grace Edison on her arm, giggling.
Great
! Behind them Aaron Seevers and Mark Wayland, the catcher, were deep in conversation.
Maybe I could get by without them noticing me, and maybe cockroaches would come out of my butt
.

Grace lifted her gaze then hit Tammy on the arm. Both stopped in their tracks a few feet from me. Aaron and Mark plowed into them. Grace’s purse fell to the ground. Tammy took a few extra steps, trying not to fall. Both girls were saved when Aaron latched onto Tammy and Mark caught Grace.

I laughed.
No one had ever tripped over the sight of me
. Okay, I was being a little sarcastic. But it was funny. I moseyed past them while Grace struggled to untangle herself from Mark. Tammy, well, she wasn’t in any hurry to leave the strong arms of Aaron. After seeing them in the hall the other day, it didn’t shock me. I’d just made it to the door of the school when someone clapped.
Don’t turn around. Ignore it.
I glanced behind me. So much for listening to my inner voice.

“Are you going to pass out again next week?” Aaron asked in a snide tone.

I swept my gaze over each of them. Tammy had a smirk on her face as though she was the happiest girl alive. I couldn’t tell if Aaron was the reason since he had his arm around her waist. Or maybe she was stoked that I’d screwed up. Either way, my fist twitched with the need to punch her, and I stepped in her direction.