Her nose wiggled. “You ironed your shirt,” she mentioned and I gave her a sheepish grin.
“Dry cleaner actually.” I smoothed my sleeve. “I tried to iron once and scorched my favorite shirt.” I shrugged. “I take my uniforms to the dry cleaner so my dress shirts get added to the pile.”
“It looks nice,” she commented, straightening her skirt as I turned onto the highway.
“Does that mean I look nice?” I fished and she cut a sideways glance my way. “I mean if the shirt looks good.”
“You wear it well,” she conceded and I smiled in satisfaction. “But she’s still going to see that black eye.” I exhaled, no longer smiling. “I could have dabbed some concealer on it for you.”
I shook my head. “It wouldn’t matter. I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the other reason she invited me over.”
“She’s your mom. She wants to know if anyone hurts her baby.”
A harsh chuckle escaped me. “It’s not exactly like that.”
I felt her gaze. “You never said who hit you.”
My instinctive impulse was to lie, but when my eyes met hers, the truth spilled out. “My uncle.” I turned my gaze back to the road but not before I’d seen the shock on her face.
“The chief of police?” She questioned carefully and I gave a short nod.
“As you can see, the family dynamics are a little complicated,” I warned her.
“I’ll say,” Cadence agreed, her fingers worrying a string on her dress. “When you were a kid…” She didn’t finish before I cut her off.
“Yeah.”
“Wow,” she breathed, and from the corner of my eye I saw her reach over the console. She hesitated for a second before her hand settled on my arm. My forearm flexed reflexively and she started to withdraw. I twisted my arm, catching her hand, not wanting her to get the wrong idea.
“We don’t talk about it,” I divulged, cradling her hand in mine. “Gramps never knew.”
“You’re an adult now though.” Cadence twined her fingers with mine. “Isn’t it time you talked about it?”
“It sounds reasonable when you say it like that,” I admitted, pressure building in my chest.
“But it’s not easy,” she commented and the pressure eased. “Secrets never are.”
“It’s her brother. He helped support us after my dad died.” I took a deep breath. “It’s not like he did it intentionally. Not when I was a kid. He had a temper,” I swallowed. “Still does.”
“You’re making excuses for him,” she observed and I flinched involuntarily. “Maybe it’s time you made him own up to his actions.”
“Easier said than done,” I muttered, my fingers flexing around hers. “I’m not the only one with secrets,” I prodded, not ready to continue the conversation about my uncle. Her palm grew damp against mine, and I squeezed her hand, hoping she would open up a little. The silence lingered long enough I didn’t think she would say anything.
“I came here intentionally,” she finally confessed. “Chasing ghosts. An old memory.”
“Did you find it?” I asked carefully, not wanting her to stop.
“I haven’t looked,” she answered shakily. “I’m scared. How stupid, right?”
“Dunno. Depends on the memory.”
“My,” she paused, swallowing. “My dad.” I glanced over to see her looking at me. “Supposedly, this is where he’s from. And, I think,” her forehead furrowed, “I think my mom is too.”
“And you didn’t know that?”
She shook her head. “My mom was a master secret keeper.” She licked her lips. “There was only one time she ever even mentioned my father and it was to tell me he was here. This town and if I ever needed help, he’d help me.” She looked uncertain and I rubbed my thumb across the back of her hand.
“That’s why you came here,” I stated. “You need help.”
She nodded reluctantly.
“I can help you, if….”
“I know,” she interjected. “I know you would, but you have enough to deal with.”
A wrinkle formed between my eyes. “You take priority.”
She shook her head. “You can’t mean that. You barely know me.”
“I don’t think it matters,” I replied. “I’ll help you. I’ll help you find your dad. I’ll help you even if he won’t. I mean it, Cadence. There’s nothing more important to me than making sure you’re safe.”
She shook her head in disbelief, her words barely a whisper, “You really are too good to be true, Noah Breaux.”
Chapter Six
Cadence
“What happened to you now, Noah?” The scolding voice could only belong to a mother and I smiled as Noah grimaced at his mom.
“It’s nothing,” he maintained even as she shook her head. “Clumsy is all.”
I watched as her mouth tightened and her gaze lingered on the black eye he sported, and it didn’t take a genius to know she knew exactly who had hit her baby. She made an effort to smooth her expression, but I was still taken aback by the anger flickering in her gaze.