Breaking Mr. Cane (Cane 2)

“Yeah, good night,” I murmured, forcing a smile.

Through the corner of my eye I watched him go, then looked up at Mom who was chewing her cookie. “He used the wrong words,” she stated. “He didn’t mean anything by it.” It was just like her to defend him.

Dad was never good with words, I knew that, but it didn’t stop things from taking a hard left turn. Even while sitting across from Mom, I felt scrutinized by her, like she was wondering if I’d actually go to Frankie’s or somewhere else…like with Cane.

“It’s fine,” I lied. “I’m going to call it a night, too. Unpack and unwind a little.”

“Yeah, yeah, go,” she insisted, like even she felt out of place. I forced a smile at my mother before pushing out of the chair and leaving the kitchen.

I went upstairs but before I got to my room, I spotted Dad in the loft section, sitting on the recliner. His head lifted and he spotted me. I put on a smile for him, hoping he’d warm up to it.

He didn’t.

Not much.

His smile was faint.

I jerked my gaze away and went to my room, shutting the door behind me. My first instinct was to text someone whom I knew would make me feel better. Someone who would accept me and not make me feel so out of place.

I went to Cane’s name and sent him a text, saying ‘hey’. Cane and I had texted one another back and forth since his surprise visit at Notre Dame. He wasn’t usually quick about it, but he returned my text messages and calls whenever he could and that was all that mattered. He was dealing with a lot, so I could understand the delays.

I took a quick shower, changed into pajamas, and checked my phone. He’d sent a message back and my heart boomed.

Cane: How’s my Kandy?

Me: I’m good.

The bubbles bounced instantly. I was glad he was still around to chat.

Cane: You sure? You already in town?

Me: Yeah, I’m sure. And yep, got here around 12.

Cane: In Washington, but coming home tomorrow. Want to see you.

I chewed on my bottom lip, my thumb hovering over the screen. I wanted to see him too, I really did, but it felt too soon.

Me: Can we do the day after?

Cane: Sure. What’s wrong?

Me: My dad is watching a lot. I think he knows I’m going to make an attempt to see you.

Cane: how would he know that?

Me: I don’t know. He’s acting weird, though.

Cane: weird how?

Me: like…he’s still ashamed of me, I guess. Or maybe he knows I’m going to see you while I’m here. Idk.

Cane: Stop Kandy. He’s not ashamed of you.

I stared at my screen until my vision went blurry. I didn’t want to say anything else. I shut the screen off and sat on the bed, staring at the pink lamp on my nightstand. My phone buzzed in my hand again and it was another message from Cane.

Cane: I told you this would be complicated. I feel like shit too, but you told me this was what you wanted. We agreed. We don’t have to do this if it doesn’t feel right to you.

That was the thing: it did feel right. I didn’t like the odd looks and gawking, but I liked the reward, which was Cane. I liked the butterflies that rushed to my belly when he’d text or call. I liked the deepness in his voice when he told me he missed me. Needed me. Couldn’t wait to see me.

I couldn’t stand the heavy feeling on my chest or in my heart. It’d only been three months. I knew it wasn’t enough time for my parents to get past what had happened, but I had hoped that they would at least avoid going near the topic.

The dirty deed I’d done was going to haunt my family for a long, long time. It was going to be worse for me because I didn’t want to move forward.

My life was a complicated mess.

Me: It feels right. Will I be able to come to your house the day after tomorrow?

Cane: Of course. I’ll work from home that day, just for you.

Me: Okay. I’ll see you then.

Cane: Okay.

Cane: When I kiss you, things won’t feel so complicated, I promise. See you Wednesday, Bits.

I bit a smile, shaking my head. He always knew what to say to pull me out of my own head. Just as I plugged my phone into the charger, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” I called.

Dad walked in, and I straightened up with haste, brows drawing together. I wasn’t expecting it to be him. It wasn’t his usual code of knock. “Dad? What’s up?”

He stepped into the room, giving a sympathetic smile. “I need to apologize to you…”

“For what?”

“I just…I don’t want you to feel out of place in your own home. I shouldn’t have said what I did in the kitchen. I—” He opened his mouth, but clamped it shut just as quickly. “I’m trying to move past it. I want us to go back to how it was before. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me or that you’re walking on eggshells around me.”