Tied Together (The Cade Siblings Duology #1)

24. Alex

CHAPTER 24

Alex

I shut the door more gently than I feel capable of and storm down the hallway. I’m itching to punch something, but I think if I made a hole in the wall Maura from the front desk would have my head. Instead I sit down on my bed and take five deep breaths, thinking through five things I can see, four things I can touch, three things I can hear, two things I can smell, and one thing I can taste.

It helps, but not by much. I don’t remember the last time I was this angry.

I thought Alana’s ex was a sucky guy, but I didn’t realize how bad he really was. The fact that he keeps getting new numbers to bother her with is not normal and I didn’t want to scare her, but it doesn’t sit well with me. That plus the bruises he left on her dainty wrist weeks ago has red flags flying high.

I’m just thankful she’s thousands of miles away from the city so he can’t physically get to her right now.

I was impressed with the level of calm I maintained throughout that phone call, because all I wanted to do was go find the guy and run him through a wall. I’m not sure if I helped by implying that we were dating, but Brad can think whatever he wants if it keeps him away from her.

My hands shake with anger and I take a few more deep breaths, trying to calm them. A soft knock at my door startles me and I hesitate. I’m not sure why, there’s only one person it could be.

“Alex,” she says softly through the closed door. “I just wanted to check on you.”

I smile to myself as I stand, most of the frustration and anger disappearing when I see her face as I pull open the door. I gesture her into the room and she follows me to the bed, sitting next to me.

“Are you okay?” Her voice is timid and apprehensive, but full of concern. “You seemed pretty upset when you left a second ago.”

“I’m okay, that guy just pisses me off.”

She laughs a sad laugh.

“You and me both.” She plays with strands of her hair, fidgeting nervously. “What helps you when you’re angry?”

“I usually try to get my mind off of it.” She nods in understanding and starts to glance around the room. Her eyes snag on the baseball cards I have lined up against the wall on my bedside table. I take those cards with me everywhere—the only real piece I have of my dad—so naturally they made it in the luggage.

“Do you collect those?” she asks, gesturing to the cards. “I’ve seen them in your office at work and always wondered.”

“I don’t really collect them anymore. Back when my dad was still around, baseball was kind of our thing. He used to take me to games and we’d talk about all the players and their stats. He had a big collection of vintage cards and let me keep a couple. I can’t seem to get rid of them.”

“That makes sense, they mean a lot to you.”

“They do. It’s strange, though, I have so much anger towards my dad for leaving but I can’t seem to let go of this piece of him. I’m so mad at him, but it feels like if I don’t carry these around those memories don’t exist. Almost like he was never even there.”

She hums in contemplation and we sit with the words for a few moments before she speaks again.

“It’s okay to remember the good parts of your dad. He gave you some good memories and just because there were bad ones it doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to acknowledge the good ones.”

I meet her eyes then, wanting to look into them and see the emotion behind her words. Since I was a kid, I’ve been taking care of all of the people around me. It has always been my job to hold the weight of everyone’s emotions on my shoulders and do what I can to neutralize them, but right now Alana is doing that for me. She’s taking my emotions and putting them on her shoulders for a second. She’s helping me carry the load.

“Are you a therapist or something?” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.

“No, but I’ve been to a lot of therapy.” She bumps her shoulder into mine and places her hand on my knee. “I’m serious though, don’t feel guilty about enjoying the good moments you had with your dad. The world is dark enough, there’s room for some light.”

I smile at her and place my hand on hers before giving it a squeeze of gratitude. We seem to come to a mutual understanding to move on and I realize that the overwhelming anger I was feeling has mostly dissipated.

“Thank you for that by the way, all the stuff with Brad.”

“What exactly happened with you two? You don’t have to share if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s probably good you know. I want you to know.”

She picks at an invisible piece of lint on her shirt, not making eye contact with me. After taking a deep breath, she starts talking.

“We dated for three years and it was pretty serious. I thought we were going to get married after a year or so, but he started changing.” She takes a breath and I wait until she’s ready to continue. “It’s hard to notice changes in someone who you spend so much time with, especially when those changes are gradual. We were really happy in the beginning. I was happy in the beginning.

“Somewhere along the way, he started making comments about my body. I shouldn’t wear form-fitting clothes because they aren’t flattering on my figure, I need to swap my foods out for lower calorie ones, I should go see a personal trainer, stuff like that. I should have recognized it for what it was, but I was too close to see it. He told me it was because he loved me and he wanted the best for me, but what he really wanted was for me to be his puppet and trophy that sat on the shelf while he made all the big moves and got all the recognition.”

Suddenly, her frustration with my attempting to help her makes more sense. I can understand how, when she felt like she had no control of her life, it would be uncomfortable to allow anyone in once she gained her independence back.

“He began climbing up the ladder at work and that just fed his ego. He started being a jerk to not only me, but everyone else, and Cami and Charlie hated him. It put a huge strain on our relationship.”

Tears well up in her eyes and give in to the urge to reach across and hold her hand. She doesn’t react, so I leave it.

“Anyways, at our three year anniversary dinner he bought me a dress that was purposefully too small and told me that if I fit into it, he’d propose to me. I was so fed up and embarrassed so I broke it off there at that table. I haven’t told anyone about the dress situation, it was way too mortifying, but I haven’t regretted walking out for one second. It was the best thing I could’ve done for myself.”

“I don’t know if I’ve said it already, but I hate that guy.”

She huffs a laugh.

“You and me both.”

“I really am so sorry you had to deal with that, Lanie. I’m so proud of you for walking away when you did and building yourself up into this incredible woman.”

“Thanks.” She sniffs and reaches up to swipe the tears from her cheeks. “It feels good to get that out. To tell someone else all of it. Thanks for listening.”

“Right back at you. I feel better than I did fifteen minutes ago.”

“Happy to help.” She squeezes my hand. “Now I really do need to go get ready.”

She stands and crosses the room to the door, opening it and stepping out into the hallway. She starts to close it, but looks back at me before she does and smiles.

We have lunch at a small bistro nearby and after we eat we head to the market where we do some light grocery shopping for the week ahead. Neither of us quite knows what to buy, considering we just arrived and aren’t sure what our day-to-day will look like, but we get a few essentials and I grab some ingredients for dinner.

On our way back through the lobby Maura stops us.

“Mr. Ashford, Ms. Cade. I was asked to inform you that Amélie has made reservations for tomorrow at 7:00 p.m. and a car will pick you up promptly at six thirty.”

“Okay, great. Thanks for letting us know,” Alana replies with a sweet smile.

Maura doesn’t acknowledge her, she just continues doing whatever it was she was doing before we arrived.

“I don’t think she likes me,” Lana says once we’re inside the lift.

“I don’t think she likes anyone. I wouldn’t take it personally.”

We enter the flat and I grab her hand before she takes off towards her room to call Cami back after missing her call earlier in the evening.

“I was thinking I’d make dinner tonight. Pasta sound okay to you?”

“Is Taylor Swift the greatest songwriter of our time?”

“Yes?” I answer hesitantly.

She raises her eyebrows as if to say exactly and turns to walk to her room, leaving a trail of sunlight in her wake.