Stepbrother Backstage (The Hawthorne Brothers Book 3) (34 page)

“So you just don’t care?” I press him, pulling away from his
tight embrace, “Our parents are ruining any chance of us being in each others’
lives once this trip is over, and that’s just fine by you?”

“Last I heard from you, that was out of the question
anyway,” he shoots back angrily, sitting back away from me. “You made it pretty
clear that you didn’t want to see me again once we leave here, Maddie.”

“I thought that’s what
you
wanted,” I tell him,
“Shit, Cash. This thing between us was supposed to be a one night stand. No
strings attached. How was I supposed to tell you that I was starting to fall
for you?”

His gaze is hard on my face as I realize what I’ve said.
What I’ve owned up to.

“You should have just told me,” he says firmly, “That’s what
you should have done. Instead of trying to guess at what I wanted, or just
assuming that I wanted a quick, easy fuck ‘cause I’m a guy. That’s where you
fucked up, Maddie.”

“I-I’m sorry,” I tell him, blinking back the next wave of
tears.

“I’ve always been honest with you,” he shoots back, his face
stony, “I’ve been more honest with you than anyone. Ever. Why don’t you trust
me enough to do the same?”

“I didn’t know I’d be able to trust you, Cash,” I say around
the knot in my throat, “You were just a handsome stranger at a bar. I didn’t
think you’d turn out to be…
you
.”

“And now?” he demands, planting his elbows on his knees, “Do
you trust me now?”

“Of course,” I breathe, placing my hands on his arm. But he
tugs away from me; my fingers close around air.

“Then why don’t you tell me what it is you actually want
here, Maddie?” he says, his tone cool and measured, “No games, for once. Give
me the truth. Do you want to cut this thing off when we leave here or not?”

“Even if we both wanted to see this through,” I begin
shakily, “It’s out of our hands, now. Our parents will be living together,
Cash. As a couple. Don’t you know what that means? We can’t keep seeing each
other, let alone—”

“That’s not what I asked, dammit,” he growls, shoving a hand
through his dark curls, “I asked what
you
wanted, Maddie.”

“How can I know that?” I cry, exasperated, “The thing I
would
really
want isn’t even possible any—”

“Just say it,” he presses, hands clenched angrily, “What do
you
want
.”

“I want you to have been a stranger,” I say in a rush,
reaching for his hardened fists, “I want you to be anything but a Hawthorne. I
want to be anything but a Porter. But there’s nothing we can do to change that,
Cash. Nothing.”

“It’s not as cut and dry as that,” he says, grabbing hold of
my hands, “We don’t have to give them that power over us. You can’t choose your
family, Maddie. But you can choose to leave it behind.”

“What?” I breathe, “What do you mean, leave it behind?”

“Just what I said,” he goes on fiercely, “We don’t owe them
anything, Maddie. Our parents. We’ve had to fend for ourselves all this time,
keep afloat however we could. They’ve only ever weighed us down. Why not cast
them off?”

“You really think you could do that?” I challenge him, “Cut
your father out of your life, just like that?”

“He cut himself out,” Cash says firmly, “I don’t mind
returning the favor.”

“And your brothers?” I demand, “You could turn your back on
them, too? Luke and Finn, the men you’ve been protecting your whole life?”

“I don’t—I wouldn’t—” Cash stammers, his voice faltering for
the first time since I’ve known him. “They’re not a part of this.”

“We all are,” I tell him, my voice heavy with remorse, “You
can’t just carve out part of your family, without hurting the lot of them. You
know that, Cash.”

“I don’t know any such goddamn thing,” he snaps back, “But
at least
I’m
willing to figure it out. I’m willing to try for
you
,
Maddie.”

“You say that…” I say softly, “But I can’t shake the feeling
that I know how this will end, Cash. If we try to keep going. It’s going to end
in us getting hurt.
Bad
.”

“So you’d just as soon give up,” he says. It’s a statement,
not a question. And a statement I have absolutely no response to.

“Cash,” I plead, “Please, try and understand. This thing
between us…it’s huge. The kind of huge that could make or break a lifetime. And
right now, we’re toeing the point of no return. If we take one more step, we
could ruin each other…”

“Or?” he says, his voice low and rasping.

“It’s too hard to think about ‘or’,” I whisper, “Because I
know that ‘or’ could be the best thing that ever happened to me…but I’ll never
get to know for sure.”

“So I don’t get a say in this,” he snarls, tearing his eyes
away from my face, “You’re just going to do whatever the hell you want, is that
it? Whatever keeps you from feeling an ounce of pain? Jesus, Maddie. Getting
anything at all worth
having
is gonna hurt like a bitch. I know you’re
strong enough to take it. Why can’t you just trust yourself to be—”

“I don’t know,” I cry out, leaping to my feet, “All I know
is…That I need a second, here. I need to think. I need…I need to get out of
this place.”

“You want to leave? Just like that?” Cash asks, taken aback,
“Maddie—”

“I can’t stay,” I tell him, pacing the dew-soaked grass,
“What just happened with me and my mom, everything she said…And your dad,
Christ—I don’t even know if I feel safe around him. I can’t think about
something as important and you and me with all this shit going on—”

“If you leave now,” Cash says, catching me by the arms, “How
do I know I’ll ever see you again?”

“You don’t,” I whisper, keeping my eyes trained on his, “I
can’t give you any certainty, Cash. I can’t leave you with anything but your
own faith in us. I’m…I’m so sorry.”

He stares at me for a long, hard moment, searching deep into
my soul for an answer, an explanation…but there’s none to be found. I have no
idea what’s going to happen next; to me, to him, to our families. But I’m
certain that I have to go. Right now. I’m drowning, here. I can’t clear my head
until I’m back on dry land, back in my real life that I’ve built in Seattle.
The life that doesn’t include Cash Hawthorne.

His eyes harden as he realizes that there’s nothing he can
do. He lets his hands drop from my arms, takes a step away from me. The first
step of many that will carry us both back to the lives we know. The ache in my
core as this new, irresolvable distance springs up between us is wrenching,
nearly intolerable. I can only hope that each step gets a little easier…whether
they lead us back to each other or not.

“Fine,” he rasps, rubbing his sharp jaw. “Do what you’re
going to do, Porter. Just don’t expect me to show up begging at your doorstep.
I’m not the type to get down on my knees.”

And with that, he turns away from me. He strides across the
wide lawn with cold purpose, ripping open the driver’s side door of the pickup.
The engine roars to life as blinding headlights tear through the gathering
twilight. Without a parting glance, Cash peels out of the driveway, tearing off
at top speed. As the sound of the racing truck fades away, nature’s nighttime
orchestra swells to fill the silence.

A hollow chasm tears open inside of me as I go to collect my
things…I have a feeling that nothing will ever fill that space again.

Chapter Ten

No one even tries to stop me as I take my hasty leave from
the lake house. My mom, John, the Hawthorne boys, and even my sisters have all
scattered for the night. Everyone is busy licking their wounds behind closed
doors. But hey—that’s always how we’ve done things in the Porter house. Every
woman for herself. Maybe we have more in common with the Hawthornes than I
thought.

By rights, I should be a wreck right now; sobbing,
screaming, and tearing out my hair. But as I haul my suitcase back to my car
and settle in behind the wheel, I just feel…nothing. Nothing but an indifferent
numbness. As I pull away from the Hawthorne house, I have the fleeting hope
that Cash might intercept me on the way out. Maybe he’ll have come up with some
brilliant solution to our quandary. Maybe he’ll block my way, refuse to let me
go. Maybe he’ll just hold me—nothing could seem hopeless with his arms around
me.

But of course, Cash doesn’t miraculously appear as I flee from
the lake house, cutting our time here together in half. I set off to retrace my
route home unimpeded. The man I’ve fallen for this week isn’t a mirage, after
all. He’s not an ideal, unattainable fantasy. He’s a person. A real,
complicated, deeply flawed person who I desperately wish could be a part of my
life.

Here’s hoping I didn’t just ruin the chances of making that
wish come true.

I drive until my eyes are bleary with sleeplessness. As I hit
the halfway point in my journey and cross the state line, a familiar neon sign
catches my eye. “Drink Here,” it commands from the side of the road. I let my
lips open as a laugh rises in my throat—but the sound comes out as a ragged sob
instead. As I speed past the bar where I first laid eyes on Cash, the place
where we spent our first night together, my numbness finally gives way to
sharp, slicing pain.

And here I thought I was going to get away with a little
case of the blues.

I blow past the now-familiar motel, unwilling to take my
foot off the gas. I couldn’t bear to revisit the place where I first laid eyes
on Cash. The room where we spent our first night together. It’s stupid to keep
driving in this state—reckless, even. But at this point, I’m racing my despair
home. If I can just make it through the next eight hours, I can fall to pieces
in the familiar mouse hole that is my lonely apartment. The comfort of privacy
is all I can hope for now.

It’s early Sunday morning before I ease open the front door
of my Seattle studio once again. My body aches from my desperate flight as I
wrangle my suitcase through the door. Everything is just as I left it a week
ago, down to the empty bottle of wine on the counter. But the normalcy of this
place doesn’t stabilize me the way I thought it would. It’s all the more
disorienting, stepping back into the flow of my real life. Going from the
whirlwind, breathtaking, full-throttle spree of this past week to the
mind-numbingly normal is giving me serious emotional whiplash. For lack of a
better idea, I leave my suitcase by the door and sprawl out on my narrow bed. I
can’t muster the will to do much else.

The second I hear my phone chirp, however, a bolt of energy
lights me up from the inside. I spring across the room, praying that Cash has
sent some word, any word at all. But my hope dashes itself on the rocks as I
look down at the screen and see Sophie’s name.

Sophie: Where are you?

Swallowing a sigh, I tap out a short reply.

Me: Home. I needed to
leave early.

Sophie: Are you OK?

Me: Not really. Are you?

Sophie: Pretty far from
it. I’m bailing early too. Heading back to school.

Me: And Anna?

Sophie: Heading back home
on her own. Mom meant what she said about staying.

Me: Talk about going our
separate ways.

Sophie: Yeah.

I can’t think of what else to tell my little sister. I
almost wish I could confide in her about what’s been going on with Cash. But
doing that would mean telling her how I’ve been considering all but cutting
myself out of the family for his sake. Our relationship is strained enough as
it is. I don’t want it to snap because of a badly timed text. But before I can
work out a reply, Sophie goes on.

Sophie: I’m sorry we didn’t
get to say goodbye. Or talk about everything that came up with Mom. I didn’t
know you were having such a hard time out there, Maddie. Just know that I’m
here for you, OK?

I smile sadly in my empty apartment. Despite her hard edge,
Sophie’s always had a secret soft spot for me and Anna. The three of us are
like war buddies, in a way—having gone through the trauma of our father’s death
and our mother’s collapse together. Even though our battles are distinct, now
that we’re adults, we’ll always be rooting for each other from our respective
fronts.

Me: Thanks, Soph. We’ll
make it through this somehow, I know it. I love you.

Sophie: I love you too.
Take care of yourself.

The only way I know how to take care of myself at a time
like this is with a good, long session of girl talk, some trashy takeout, and a
bottle of something fermented. And I think I know how I can get a hold of all
three.

I pull up Allie’s number from my contacts and wait for the
healing to commence.

It’s only by the grace of Allie that I make it through my
first day without Cash. She races over to my apartment the second I tell her
I’m home early, and that I need her. It’s only when she arrives that I truly
let myself fall to pieces. She’s my best friend in the world, the only person
who was there for me when I nearly dropped out of school, after my dad died. As
I let loose the torrent of my conflicted pain, she doesn’t even ask for
details. I’ll tell her what I can, in time. But for now, I just need a friend.

The coming week looms before me, daunting for its emptiness.
I still have a week of vacation time left. My bosses aren’t expecting me back
until the following Monday. That means I have nothing to do for the next seven
days but wallow in my own self-pity and loneliness…And that’s just not
something I can bear.

As hard as it is, I try to keep myself busy. I drive out to
my favorite hiking spots outside the city, walking all day to drive thoughts of
Cash from my mind. I tear through all my favorite books, willing them to sweep
me away to worlds far away from my own. But some part of me always stays
anchored in thinking of him—wondering if he’s called, hoping that he hasn’t
written me off, and
wishing that he’d show up
under my window with a goddamn boom box like in the movies.

But as the days wear on, there’s no sign of Cash Hawthorne.
No calls, no texts, no sudden appearances. He wasn’t kidding about the ball
being in my court, now. If only I knew what my next play might be.

* * *

“Hey there, Mads! Long time no see.”

I glance up from my office laptop with a tight smile for my
boss, Brian (i.e. Mr. Intriguing). It’s my first day back at ReImaged, but my
brain still feels a million miles away. The only activity I’ve managed to do
this morning is run endlessly through all the reasons I shouldn’t care that I
still haven’t heard from Cash. It’s been more than a week since we parted ways,
and I’ve yet to hear a word. I keep telling myself that I’ve moved from despair
to begrudging acceptance of our separation… Maybe if I think it enough times,
it’ll somehow become true.

“Hope you’re feeling nice and rested after your trip,” Brian
goes on, rapping on my desk with his knuckles. He’s in his mid-thirties, tall
and lanky with an eager smile and a Silicon Valley bro’s wardrobe. Brian’s the
good cop to his business partner Carol’s bad cop, but I’m having a little
trouble matching his enthusiasm this morning.

“Oh yeah. Montana was very relaxing,” I tell him.

“Hmm. Montana,” Brian says, nodding his head, “I never
consider vacationing there. Very intriguing…”

Across the room, Allie glances up from her computer and
cocks an eyebrow at me. I actually feel like smiling as Brian utters his
buzzword for the first of many times today. Maybe this whole assimilating back
into my real life thing won’t be so impossible after all.

“Team meeting in five,” says a no-nonsense voice from the
doorway to the conference room. I look up to see Carol there, her eyes glued to
her smart phone, as ever.

“Great,” Brian smiles, “Allie, Maddie, we’re gonna need 100%
from both of you for this next campaign, so get ready to dive in.”

“Oh. Maddie. You’re back,” Carol says, glancing up at me for
half a second.

“Yep,” I reply, “I just got back from—”

But she disappears from view without another word,
completely blowing me off. A few years ago, I’d be miffed. But I’ve gotten
pretty used to Carol’s complete lack of people skills since I started working
here. There’s a reason Allie and I have the client-facing jobs at this
business. You know—the jobs that actually require speaking with real
humans. 

As I start gathering my things for the meeting, I sneak
another look at my cell phone. Still no messages from Cash—just an endless
stream of passive aggressive texts from my mother. As per usual. Allie’s hand closes
around my wrist as I stare wistfully at the screen, and I look up bashfully at
my redheaded partner in crime.

“Why don’t you just text him first?” she asks me, “It’s been
a whole week, for Christ’s sake. You have a right to know where you stand with
him, Maddie.”

I stuff my cell back into my desk drawer, a tiny twinge of
guilt tugging at my conscience. Allie has been a saint all through my
moping/moving on efforts. From the moment she showed up at my apartment that
first Sunday with three kinds of Oreos, a gigantic bottle of
Sauvignon
Blanc, and a very absorbent shoulder to cry on, she’s been my savior. I
told her almost everything about the situation with Cash while we binge-watched
about a season and a half of
Gilmore Girls
. Emphasis on the
almost
.
I filled her in on every aspect of our relationship apart from the whole
almost-kinda-related thing. I’m still wrapping my head around how I feel about
that—I didn’t want to spring it on her out of nowhere. I couldn't bear it if
she thought my feelings for him were strange, perverted even. But
not
telling her is wearing on me, too.

“I don’t want to make things any worse,” I tell her,
snapping my laptop shut. “Besides, I still need to figure out what I actually
want.”

“You want
him
,” Allie replies bluntly, “That much is
abundantly apparent. I don’t see why you’re not willing to give long distance a
shot. Skype sex is actually kind of fun!”

“You never cease to amaze me, Miss McCain,” I cut the
conversation short as we set off for the conference room together.
God
.
If only the single obstacle standing in my and Cash’s way was a little
distance.

Carol and Brian are already sitting at opposite heads of the
conference table when Allie and I arrive. She and I will be tag-teaming this
next campaign for Asphalt denim, an undertaking that totally slipped my mind
while I was in Cash’s orbit this past week. Another
reason to keep my distance from him for the time being—I’ve got some serious
work ahead of me. My job’s been the most important thing in my life for years. It’s
baffling to have found something that even remotely challenges its hold on me.
But then again, plenty of things about Cash baffle the hell out of me.

“OK!” Brian says, clapping his hands together as Allie and I
sit down at the table, “Let’s talk denim, ladies! This campaign is going to be
a big one for us. We’ve never had a client in fashion before, and Asphalt wants
the full ReImaged treatment. If everything goes well, this will be quite the
feather in both your caps.”

“Well, you know how I love to accessorize,” Allie smiles
back at him. “I’ll take an extra feather any day.”

“Right,” Carol says dryly, tapping a few keys on her laptop.
At her command, a projection screen lowers down from the ceiling, a
presentation about our next client all queued up. “Asphalt has been very
specific about their needs for this campaign,” she goes on. “We’re going to
help them plan several live events that underscore the more rugged side of
their profile. Their new men’s line is less high-fashion, more
rough-and-tumble.”

“So… Live hard rock bands, industrial spaces, partnering
with some liquor companies…” I spitball, imagining possible angles for
Asphalt’s rebranding efforts.

“That’s exactly right. Great instincts, Maddie,” Brian says,
bobbing his head, “As you know, the client’s current reputation skews a bit
elite. They want us to help bring them down to earth. Let the consumers know
that ‘real men rock Asphalt’.”

“Oof. I hope that’s not the final tagline,” Carol winces.

“Real men, huh?” Allie echoes, her voice taking on a
strange, agitated tone. She makes a show of tapping her fingertips on the
table, playing at thinking hard. I know her well enough to know when she’s up
to something. “Why don’t we lean into that angle?” she continues.

“Go on,” Carol allows, sitting back in her leather chair.

“What if we could find ways to incorporate some brand
ambassadors into the events? Maybe even some in the general marketing campaign
if the client is into it,” Allie goes on. “Asphalt is a west coast brand. What
if we found local guys—small business owners, working men, cowboy types—to
feature in the ad campaign for the new line?”