Beautiful Mistake(54)

Caine came up behind me and kissed my shoulder. “Do you have to work tomorrow night?

“No. I work evening tonight and day tomorrow.”

“I want to take you somewhere tomorrow night.”

“Where?”

“It’s a surprise.”

I smiled. “Okay.”

“Get dressed up.”

Finishing the last dish, I turned off the water and turned to face him. “How dressed up?”

“As much as you want to be.”

I couldn’t remember the last time anything had felt so right. Caine read my goofy smile. “What?”

“This feels…right.”

His eyes searched mine. “It does. As much as I fought it, and it’s against every rule at work, nothing’s felt this right in a long time. Maybe I couldn’t get you out of my head because you’re supposed to be there.”

We spent the next few hours being lazy, snuggled up on the couch watching old Law & Order reruns. I hated for the day to end, but eventually I had to ask Caine to drive me home so I could get ready for work. We dressed in his bedroom together.

I made the bed while he changed into jeans and a polo and brushed his teeth. There was a half-empty box of condoms tossed aside on the nightstand.

The master bathroom door was open so I yelled, “Where do you keep these?”

“What?”

“The condoms.”

“Nightstand. But you can leave ’em out if you want. We’ll be finishing those off soon.”

I smiled as I opened the drawer and went to place the box inside, but a small, silver-framed photo caught my eye instead. Nosy, I picked it up to examine it. It was a picture of Caine’s old band. He was probably in his early twenties and was arm in arm with another guy about the same age. The rest of the band hovered in the background.

Caine appeared and caught me with it in my hot little hands. “I’m sorry. When I opened the drawer, I saw it. I couldn’t help myself. You were so sexy.”

The bed dipped as he sat down next to me. “Were?”

I was relieved he didn’t seem upset at my snooping. Knocking shoulders with him, I teased, “Well, now you’re old and mature, so you’re more handsome than sexy.”

He took the photo from my hand. “Is that so?”

I watched him look down at it, rubbing his finger across the photo. “Me and Liam and the band.”

“You all look so happy. Why do you keep it in the drawer?”

“I don’t know. I guess it’s not easy to see some days.”

I knew the feeling. When I first decorated my apartment, I had days when I passed by the photo of my mother and it made me sad. But eventually I got used to seeing it, and over time, I started to smile at her each morning.

“It gets easier if you leave it out. When you tuck it away, you’re burying it, and it never heals.”

Caine looked at me and nodded in silence. Then he shut the nightstand drawer and set the small photo up on the end table. “You ready?”

I held back on showing him how giddy it made that he took my advice. The first few times he looked at it would probably be rough, but maybe it was time. Plus, I was hoping I’d be around to help him feel better as he slipped into bed each night.

Grabbing my purse in the living room, I rummaged through to find my cell as Caine slipped on his shoes. There were some loose coins on the bottom next to my phone, which gave me an idea—something I hadn’t done in a long time.

“Hang on,” I said. “I forgot something in the bedroom.”

Walking back to the end table, I took one last look at the old photo of Caine and Liam before closing my eyes and making a little wish. Then I tossed the two copper pennies in my hand on the floor for Caine to find later.

Find a penny, pick it up, and all day long you’ll have good luck.

Satisfied, I smiled and turned around to head back to the living room. Not expecting to see Caine filling the doorway, I jumped at finding him there. My hand clenched at my chest. “You scared me.”

Caine’s eyes flicked to the floor to look at the pennies and then came back to roam my face. “What the hell did you just do?”





Caine



What the fuck?

I’d been pacing since I returned from dropping Rachel at her apartment. She’d known something was off, known I was full of shit when I said I had the start of a migraine coming on. I don’t even get migraines, yet I was pretty sure the pounding in my head was leading in that direction.

It couldn’t be a coincidence.

Could it be a fucking coincidence?

I dragged my hands through my hair. Think, West, think. What the hell was that little girl’s father’s last name?

Then I remembered the file in my desk drawer. Or maybe it was in the cabinet in the office where I kept old band crap. I was certain I’d kept a copy of the police report. God knows why I’d saved it when my parents had paid a fortune to have the incident expunged and make sure my records were sealed.

I ripped my files apart looking for it. By the time I came across the faded yellow page, my office looked like it’d been ransacked.

Victim’s name: Benny Nelson

Nelson. I’d thought for sure finding out would make me relieved it wasn’t Rachel’s last name, but instead it only raised new questions.