Redemption (7 page)

Nick shrugged and motioned to the car.

About fifteen minutes later, they were parked at the Mayer’s house. Bryan felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him as he recalled the many times he and Miranda had come to pick Carrie up in high school. He jammed his Starbucks cup into the holder in Nick’s car.

Well, crap
.
Freakin’ memories.

They found her seated in the kitchen, pen and paper in hand, reviewing a list she’d written. Presumably, Bryan thought, the very detailed list of photos she wanted him to take. Carrie pushed her seat back and stood to wrap her arms around Nick and planted an annoyingly affectionate kiss on his lips. She turned to face Bryan, arm still slung around Nick’s shoulders.

“Hey, you can take off the sunglasses, Hollywood. You’re inside the house. It’s winter. In Jersey.”

He breathed out a small chuckle and put them on the kitchen table. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he could see that absolutely nothing had changed in this house since he’d last stood in this very same spot. He supposed, when people had a life they loved, when they had all they wanted or needed, changing it wasn’t really necessary. He ran a hand through his hair, regret pooling in his gut.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Bryan Roemer.” A voice from behind him jarred him back to present day reality.

Bryan turned to face a woman who obviously knew his name, so he figured she should be familiar for some reason. The look she gave him said that they had history. Had he slept with her? No, in New Jersey, it was always and only...the other one. The woman standing before him was beautiful, which made him
want
to remember her.

Who was she?

He studied her face. Kind, gentle blue eyes watched for his reaction. They sparkled a bit; she enjoyed that he couldn’t place her. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a ponytail, making her look playful and young and irresistible. She cocked her head to the side as her smile widened.

It was then that he knew. The smile robbed her of the brief moment of anonymity. He snapped his fingers and pointed.

“Little Cassidy Baker, minus the braces,” he said. “Looks like you’ve grown up a bit, kid.”

There were a whopping three years between them, and for some reason, he’d always felt the need to point that out. His friend’s younger, tag-along cousin. That’s how she’d always felt around him. Well, that and impossibly distracted by the enormous crush she tried very hard to keep secret, at least from him and Miranda.

And she really didn’t need the reminder of the braces she’d had until her late teens.

Cassidy leaned against the wall, trying to seem unaffected by him. She was a grown woman now, turning thirty in a matter of days. There was no way she’d be relegated to “kid” anymore.

“And you seem to have gotten a bit more...hairy,” she quipped, sounding very much like the kid he accused her of being.

He took a step closer to her, bending to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Nice to see you Cassidy.”

The moment his lips touched her cheek, she felt like her legs turned to jelly, like her heart flip-flopped in her chest, and she knew that her own face was flushed, betraying the cool confidence she’d practiced ever since finding out she’d see him again. Cassidy gripped the wall for support.

“Well,” she began, “it’s nice to see you, too.” Then, needing to change the subject and take his eyes off her face, she gestured to the camera slung over his shoulder and continued, “So, photography, huh?”

He persisted in staring at her, making her feel uncomfortable. She pushed a stray hair behind her ear. For what was probably only a few seconds, yet felt like much longer, he studied her face. She needed him to stop doing that. Cassidy folded her arms and raised her eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

“Photography, yes.” He spun to face Carrie. “So, what can Bryan Roemer Photography do to make your
special day
more memorable?” There was more than a twinge of sarcasm in his voice.

Carrie slugged him in the chest.

Bryan sucked in air. “Really. Tell me what you want.”

She smiled at him. “Well, I’ve got this list.”

The two men exchanged glances, and Cassidy snickered in the background. Bryan looked over his shoulder at her. She blushed, excused herself, and made her way out of the room. He leaned over, following her with his gaze as she went up the stairs. Little Cassidy Baker wasn’t so little anymore.

 

C
assidy stretched out on the bed in the guest room. The last time she had seen Bryan, he was a confident, cocky twenty-something. She knew the man downstairs was the same Bryan. But he wasn’t; in so many ways, he wasn’t. His eyes seemed hollow, distant. The spark of mischief was gone, and she knew it had nothing to do with age. And what was with the beard and the hair? The Bryan she remembered would never have let himself get so...unruly.

“What did she do to you?” she whispered to the empty room.

She rolled onto her side and pulled up her legs. Maybe she could help him. After all, they’d been sort-of friends once. At least she always wanted to be. Cassidy couldn’t stand the pain that surrounded him, that rolled off him and filled the spaces where he stood. He was grieving, and she knew a thing or two about grief. Grief was greedy; and if left unchecked, it devoured.

When she’d lost her parents, Cassidy’s world had come crashing down. She questioned everything she ever believed. God. Goodness. Justice. Love. In the end, she came to realize that all of those things still existed. No one was out to get her. She could either become bitter, or she could honor their memory. Allowing the grief to consume her would’ve been easier, she supposed. Fighting it took effort. Becoming a stronger person took work. Her parents would not have wanted her to give up, and so she chose not to.

From the looks of him, Bryan gave up a long time ago. The man in the kitchen was broken, and Cassidy was a fixer. She needed to help him. He’d looked at her differently, well, before remembering who she was; she could use that flicker of change, that new status in his eyes.

And Carrie was right. Under all that scruff, he was still incredible.

“You’ll see,” she said quietly. “You will be able to live again.”

 

Carrie leaned in and motioned for the men to do the same. When they hesitated, she impatiently grabbed their shirts and yanked.

“Listen,” she said in hushed tones, “Cassidy is turning thirty this weekend. I’ve been planning something for her.”

Nick squinted. “You’ve got that look, which I both love and fear about you; what have you done?”

“It’s going to be perfect, and now that you’re here,” she indicated Bryan by jabbing him with one finger, “we’ll have an even number. Naturally, I planned for it, just in case you came through for us, Bryan.”

“Carrie, planned
what
?” Nick asked, feeling nervous.

“A dinner cruise. You know, on one of those Spirit boats. It’s all booked and paid for. You, Cassidy, Derek, Miranda, me, and now Bryan.” She grinned, obviously very pleased with herself. “We’re going this Saturday night, so get some nice suits, boys.”

“It’s January and freezing,” Nick stated, not bothering to hide his lack of enthusiasm.

“They cruise year-round, even for New Year’s. Besides, we can be inside. It’ll be pretty, and Cassidy loves New York,” she paused and narrowed her eyes. “We’re doing this.”

Carrie was not normally callous and oblivious to the pain of those she cared about, so Bryan was wondering why she thought he would, for any reason whatsoever, agree to this ridiculous cruise.

“I’m not really interested,” he said.

“Interested or not, Bryan, you obviously need to get out. Look at yourself. And Cassidy needs a date. You’re familiar to her. You can’t leave her alone on her
birthday
. C’mon please?” Carrie folded her hands. “It’ll be fun.”

Bryan didn’t even bother to hide how he felt. “I don’t get you. You know I don’t want to see Miranda.” Just saying her name out loud caused a fresh tear in his heart.

“Yeah, well, it’s gonna happen. I know I’m being harsh with you, Bry, but someone has to be.” Carrie dug in. There was no way he was skipping this. She knew what she was doing.

He muttered a few curses under his breath, closed his eyes, clenched his jaw, breathed in sharply. A war of common sense and self-preservation was being waged inside him. The stone had grown hot, almost burning his flesh. He should refuse. He should tell Carrie where she could stick her idea. He should tell her how much of a heartless witch she was being, get up, and leave.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll go. Just don’t expect me to enjoy it.”

Carrie kissed his cheek. “You’ll see. It really will be fun. Hang with Cass.”

Bryan glowered at her.

“Okay, on to the next item on our agenda. Wedding photo-
graphy.”

Nick and Bryan looked at each other, speechless.

Carrie was clearly up to something. Maybe she thought forcing Bryan to be in the same place as Miranda would help him, like tearing off a bandage. Maybe she was trying to jolt him into showing even one, little emotion. Maybe she was just used to getting her way.

About an hour and a half later, Bryan stood, stretched, and grabbed the list from the table. “I think I’ll head back to the hotel now.” So much for sustained interaction with people. He was worn out. “Nick, on the way, think you could take me to get a rental before the place closes?”

“Sure.”

“I’m, uh, just going to say goodbye to Cass first,” Bryan said, clearing his throat. “Would be rude not to.”

Carrie smiled, a gleam in her eye. “Upstairs and to the left.”

As soon as he was out of earshot, Nick leaned over and pinned Carrie with his glare. “You’re not doing what I think you’re doing.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” she said, sighing. “If he wants to say goodbye, where’s the harm in that?”

“No matchmaking. Not for him. Not with her,” Nick said firmly. “He’s not ready, and she’ll get hurt.”

“Pshaw. They’ll be fine. Can’t you just trust me?” she wound her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

 

Bryan leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. She’d fallen asleep. Carrie mentioned that she drove from Vermont, so he could understand why she was so tired. He was tired, too. Just a different kind of tired.

He sighed as he quietly walked into the room and stood watching her. Cassidy’s chest rose and fell with each breath. She looked so peaceful. His sleep was always fitful, images he tried to avoid during the day finding their way into his unconscious mind. He envied her for that. Little Cassidy Baker. He smiled faintly.

A stray hair had fallen across her face, the same one she pushed behind her ear nervously earlier. His brow creased, and he gently pushed it from her face. Before he could stop himself, Bryan was seated on the bed beside her, just watching as she slept. She looked so innocent, so pure. He scowled.

Not like me.

His added weight to the bed must have disturbed her, because she stirred, stretching, and opened one eye.