Breaking Mr. Cane (Cane 2)

I won’t say he didn’t try, because he did. He would text me stupid, mildly funny memes and I would put the cry-laughing emoticon, but there was minimal conversation. To say things had been knocked off balance would have been putting it lightly.

Still, I couldn’t believe how quickly time was passing by.

The days went in a blur, and I gave most credit to conditioning, practice, and hanging out with new friends.

Two months.

That’s how long it’d been since I started college. Since I last saw Cane. Moving on wasn’t easy—hell, I still hadn’t. The thought of him infiltrated every single part of my mind and even seeped into my life. My friends knew I was hiding something, but I refused to tell them, especially Brody.

God, Brody.

He knew something was up, but he was patient and kind and never pushed too much on the subject. He always told me to tell him when I was ready to talk about it…but Cane was a topic I refused to discuss with anyone. It didn’t stop me from checking the company’s website, Twitter, and Instagram accounts for updates.

His company wasn’t doing too well. Stocks had gone down, and there was even a rumor saying that Cane was looking to sell Tempt. I didn’t believe that. Though his company was in bad shape right now because of his lost investment in Tokyo, I knew Cane would pull himself out of it and would never give up so easily as to sell what he’d worked so hard to build.

Just like me, he was ambitious and driven and when he wanted something to happen, he made it happen, despite the doubts and criticism. It just sucked that all of this was happening because of me. Dad had created chaos in Cane’s life, leaving many investors unsure whether they should continue working with him or not.

I wanted to call. Check in. But he’d never called or text me again after that one call when I got here.

I figured it was for a reason.

The one thing I’d learned the hard way was that winters were brutal in Indiana. I had practically frozen my tits off walking across campus to get to my dorm.

I’d had my last class and was so damn glad when I made it inside my building where the warmth enveloped me, causing a fierce shiver to rush through me. When I got off the elevator and started toward my room, I noticed someone standing in front of the door.

His arms were folded over his chest, his upper back and the bottom of his right foot pressed to the wall, like he’d been waiting there for a while.

I smiled when Brody tipped his chin, revealing a set of dimples that I would probably never get tired of seeing. He pushed off the wall when I got closer, a casual smile still gracing his lips.

“My lady,” he teased in a horrible medieval voice. The day we met, he’d told me he would see me around, but I didn’t think I’d see him in my Renaissance Studies class the very first day. I didn’t expect someone like him to sign up for a class of that nature, so it was both exciting and strange to see him sitting in one of the chairs, fiddling with a pen on the desk.

Apparently, he loved the Renaissance and Medieval era and was also a big Game of Thrones and Spartacus fan…just like me. With our MPA meet ups and Renaissance class, we had no choice but to bump into each other more than once a day.

“You have to stop with that terrible accent,” I laughed.

He chuckled, and then continued with his medieval voice. “What is it? Do you not like my voice, my lady?”

I sputtered a laugh, pushing the door open and dropping my tote bag in the empty chair. Morgan wasn’t around. Probably still in class. “You’re a mess.”

“You going to MPA tonight?” he asked walking into the room and shrugging out of his coat.

“Yeah, but I need a nap first. Woke up early to go for a jog with Morgan at the gym. Classes have me beat. It’s still at the basketball gym, right?” I asked, shrugging out of my jacket too.

“Yep, basketball gym. Six on the dot.” He walked toward one of the inspirational posters on the wall. Morgan had lots of posters taped to the walls, but the one he was looking at was one of my favorites. “Live your life and don’t be a dick,” Brody read out loud. “That one’s new,” he mused, wiggling his brows.

“Yeah. It’s one of my favorite ones.” I sat on the edge of the bed. “How do you keep getting past Henley anyway? She really doesn’t like guys coming into our building.”

“Oh, I didn’t. She caught me. With my dashing smile and big brown eyes, I got a pass. She told me I couldn’t stay past curfew, and that I only get a pass because she likes you.”