When the Heart Falls(35)

"I do," Mom says.

"Good. And make sure, make sure Martha gives him a lot of carrot juice. He loves carrot juice."

"I know," she says.

"Hey, Stevie. Remember when I told you about Paris? Remember the picture of the Eiffel Tower? That's where I am right now, Stevie. I'm on the Eiffel Tower. I wish you could be here with me. One day, we'll have to go together. It's beautiful up here. You'll really like it. In the meantime I'll take a picture for you, okay?"

Stevie makes a croaking sound.

My heart pumps harder, and I wish I could be with them, that we could go back to how we used to be with fireworks and swimming and homemade ice cream. Stevie always loved to swim. "I love you too, buddy. Can you put mom back on the phone?"

"I'm here, Cade."

"Thank you, Mom."

"You're welcome. We… " She hesitates, and I wonder if she'll ask me to come back. The way I feel right now, if she asks me, I might just have to leave. Adjust expectations, I remind myself, but that advice isn't helping much right now.

"We miss you Cade." Mom shuffles something around that crackles through the phone.

I slump forward on the railing, relieved I don't have to choose right now between my life and my family. "I miss you too."

I hear heavy footsteps in the background and a door banging closed. My dad's voice carries through the house. "Is that Cade? I want to talk to him."

"Cade, your father wants to talk to you," Mom says.

I freeze, unsure of what to say or do.

"Cade?" Her voice sounds sad, always stuck between her husband and sons.

But I still can't reply.

"Cade? Cade?"

Dad's footsteps grow louder. He yells at Mom again.

And I hang up.

A gust of wind blows through me, chilling me to the bone as I gaze out over Paris. I can't speak to my dad. Can't be with my brother. Can't make my mom happy. Can't pursue what I love without hurting them all, and I can't do what they want without giving up a piece of myself. And I can't…

I can't hold it in anymore.

My eyes burn with tears that threaten to leak out. Evidence of my pain. My guilt. My failures.

Winter turns to face me. Her blue eyes penetrate me, and without a word she walks over and wraps her arms around me, holding me close to her.

I consider pushing her away. Men don't cry. Men aren't weak.

But sometimes we do. Sometimes we are. And sometimes we need someone to be there for us.

And right now, I need her.





WINTER DEVEAUX

CHAPTER 15





THE WEATHER AT Mont Saint Michel could be hot or cold, or somewhere in between, Monsieur Bellugue told us. Which, obviously, really helps with the packing. I debate between a red sweater and my black leather jacket. I can't fit both into my carry-on bag, and I don't want to bring a lot of luggage for one weekend.

As I pack, my eyes wander to the newly framed picture on my desk of Cade and me on top of the Eiffel Tower. We look like a couple, even though we haven't actually defined our relationship as such.

Jenifer saunters across the room, her hips swaying as she models her new slinky dress. "What do you think?"

It's trashy. "It's nice. Where are you going?"

"Out with Duke." She digs through her drawer until she finds what she's looking for: A pair of G-String panties that look like dental floss with a silk bow. "We're actually dating, can you believe it? I'm so proud of myself."

I don't even try to keep the sarcasm from my voice. "Good for you."

"You should meet him soon," she says, ignoring my tone. "You'll really like him."

I roll my eyes. "I've already met him."

She throws shoes over her shoulder until she finds a black pair of spiked heels. "Okay, hang out with him, then. Get to know him better."

"Yeah, no. I don't want to." I settle on the jacket, since I already have a sweater packed, and shove it into my bag.

"Why not?"

"I just don't."

Jenifer stops trashing our room to look at me, fist on hips. "What? I finally get a boyfriend, and you don't have the time to even see him?"

"No. It's not that."

"Then what?"

The irritation and anger that's been building since the night she didn't come home pours out of me. I throw my hands in the air in exasperation. "Did you sleep with him? That night, at the party, did you sleep with him?"

Jenifer pauses, pressing her lips together as if in thought. Her tapping toe betrays her nerves. "We're together. We're a couple."

"So?"

"So, it wasn't a one night stand."

"Ugh!" I stomp away, wishing I had something I could throw or hit. Instead, I keep packing, trading a pair of slacks for my skinny jeans. Taking deep breaths, I try to calm myself, but it doesn't work. "Why do you let guys use you all the time?"

"He's not using me. He's with me."

"Because you're easy!" I regret the words the moment they escape my mouth, but it's too late to pull them back, and my anger boils hotter.

Jenifer recoils as if I've hit her. "Maybe I am easy. Maybe I do let guys use me. But at least I know how to have fun."