Breaking Mr. Cane (Cane 2)

“Man, your bestie sounds like she likes to get down,” Morgan tittered, and Gina laughed with her, throwing her hands in the air as if she had no right to say anything. “Your old teammates can talk all the shit they want, but I bet none of them are where you are right now, at one of the best colleges in the country, playing for one of the best softball college teams around. Screw those bitches.”

I chuckled while Gina said, “Amen,” in her adorable, southern accent.

I ordered a garden salad and fruit bowl. Morgan chowed down on a cheeseburger and a milkshake, and Gina went with a chicken sandwich and slice of apple pie. My salad wasn’t as great as the pizza I had the day before. No wonder so many students turned toward cheeseburgers and pizza. The salad was literally thrown together and looked as if it’d been sitting out for days. I ate my fruit bowl instead.

Being around Morgan and Gina was a breath of fresh air, that was for sure. They were understanding and good listeners, which I loved. It was nice to have genuine people at my side. It took away some of my nerves, plus Gina was a big help with where to go and how to get around campus. She loved answering our questions.

Later that night, it was hard to fall asleep. The night before, it was easy because I’d had a long trip and I crashed. But this night, it felt impossible.

Morgan was like a rock, I learned. It took her no time to get comfortable and drift into a deep snore. Lucky for her, my father was a heavy snorer and I could hear his snoring from my room three doors down so I was used to the noise.

I tossed and turned. Grunted and groaned. I gave up eventually and laid flat on my back, staring out of the window at the milky moon. While I stared at it, my eyes became tight and wet, my throat thick with emotion. I picked up my phone and sighed.

Cane was only a phone call away. He’d reminded me of it every time I saw him. But it wasn’t like that anymore. I couldn’t call him without risking everything. There was a chance Kelly was around and as badly as I wanted to know what she had on him to make him so wary, I wanted more for him to be safe.

Helpless, I cried silently, half of my face buried in the pillows that smelled like home, until finally, I’d fallen asleep.

Chapter Thirteen

CANE

The hardest thing about my entire situation was whether or not to call Kandy. I wanted to know how her first two days had gone, hear the nerves and excitement in her voice as she filled me in on everything.

I remembered my first day of college and how nervous yet thrilled I was to start a new life—a new adventure. I was sure she felt the same way.

I wanted to hold her hand along the way, tell her that there wasn’t anything to worry about and that she’d get through the next four years just fine—that I was always going to be here for her, no matter how screwed up all of this was. I wanted to hear her sweet, sultry voice, hear her tell me that she still wanted me. Still cared for me, despite being backed into a corner.

It was useless, though.

I stared down at the phone on my counter, glaring down at her number on my screen, my palms pressed on the edge of it. Would it have been selfish of me to call her, ruin her first few days? Was she even thinking about me, or was she trying to move past it and live a better life? If so, who was I to set her back?

I had my time and I’d ruined it. I told her I would ruin her, but in the end, I was the one who was crushed.

Headlights rolled across the wall in the hallway. Someone was here. I picked up my phone and marched to the door quickly, pulling it open and spotting a white Impala parked in the driveway.

“Thanks, man!” I heard the familiar voice shout, and then she was coming toward me.

She, as in my sister. My baby sister.

She looked different. Way different. Her hair that was once brown and straight the last time I saw her, was now wavy and dyed a pastel blue. The sleeves of tattoos on her arms I could make out in a busy crowd, but I couldn’t recall the lip piercing.

It was funny. When people who didn’t know us, saw us together with our tattoos on display, they automatically knew we were related, or assumed we were a couple if they didn’t look at our faces long enough.