Faking It (Losing It, #2)(54)

36

fingernails scrapeMax19ifferentMax

Mom threw open the front door of their two-story house and squealed when she saw us. The Joker probably had a more realistic smile than I did. When both my parents came into view, Cade’s hand curved around my waist, falling just below the line of my coat. I could feel the heat of his fingers through my shirt, and it was like five little daggers of doubt to my back.

This was too hard. My body and my mind and my heart were at war, and my sanity was the collateral damage.

Dad shook Cade’s hand, and Mom pulled both of us into a hug simultaneously.

“Come in! Come in! Oh, Cade, Mick and I are just so happy you’re here.” She released me and hugged him around the neck for a few seconds. His arm was still around me, so I’m sure we resembled some kind of radioactive waste monster that had begun sprouting extra heads and limbs. When she pulled back she lifted a strand of my hair and clucked her tongue. She said, “Oh, honey,” and frowned, but didn’t say anything further. It gave me a little bit of hope that maybe she could handle the rest of it.

But just a little.

I met Cade’s eyes, and his flicked to my mother.

I took a deep breath and said, “Mom?”

“Yes, dear?”

Her eyes met mine. They focused on me in a way they hadn’t in years. Normally, she’d look at me for a second or two before glancing everywhere around me. She blinked, still looking at me, waiting for words that I just couldn’t seem to pry from my lips.

Instead, I asked, “What room is Cade staying in?”

“Oh, we’ve put him in the guest room upstairs, right next to your old room.”

I looked at Cade, and he gave me a stiff smile.

Every time we took a step forward, I seemed to take a running leap back.

Mom continued, “Why don’t you two get settled in. Dinner is almost ready though, so be quick!”

I nodded and went to grab Cade’s hand. He stepped out of my reach and gestured for me to lead the way instead. His shoulders were even stiffer than his smile. I walked up the stone pathway through my parents’ large, ornate front door, and he followed. He paused in the doorway to take in the high, arched ceiling and Mom’s tendency to decorate every inch of available space.

“Stairs are over here,” I said.

He nodded, but didn’t reply.

The entire way up the stairs, I could hear his heavy footfalls, and each one made me flinch. By the time I opened the guest room door at the end of the hallway, I could feel his emotions like a cloud at my back. He threw our bags down on the bed, and turned to face me.

I normally loved the way Cade looked at me . . . all of the ways. The way he’d looked out in the audience while I sang. The way he would keep his head down on our walks home, but look at me sideways. The way he’d looked at me when I’d been spread out beneath him. I could tell, just by his expression that he believed in me . . . all of me.

But his expression now was none of those things. He didn’t look angry . . . well, yes he did. But mostly, he looked sad. And he looked disappointed, an expression with which I was all too familiar. And that indefinable fingernails scrapeorS drink something that I’d always seen in his gaze was gone. So was his belief in me.

I shut the door behind me, and the click echoed through the silence of the room.

I pulle aid="147LCS">“I’m sorry.” I seemed to say that to him a lot, more than to any other person in my life except for Alex. “I know I said I would tell them . . . that I wouldn’t pretend anymore—”

“You’ve said a lot of things.”

I sucked in a breath, but my lungs still felt empty.

“Cade.”

“I just don’t understand you.” His hands went to his hair, and he began to pace back and forth in front of the bed. “I thought you were fearless,” he said.

A noise ripped from my throat, and even I didn’t know if it was a laugh or sob.

“Well, you were wrong.”

“You get up onstage in front of hundreds of people and bare your soul. You don’t take shit from anyone. You go after what you want. You’re amazing. But then when you’re here, it’s like you’re a completely different person.”

“Oh, come on. It’s an act, a crutch, a mask, take your pick. I project fearless, and you project perfection. It doesn’t mean either of us actually are those things.”

His pacing changed course, and he came at me. I had to crane my head backward to meet his gaze. “How do you think this is going to turn out? You can’t keep who you are a secret forever. What are you going to do? Wear turtlenecks for every visit? Never come home during the summer? Not invite them to your wedding?”

I swallowed.

“I’ll tell them. I just need time. I need to prepare them so that they’re not so shocked. They’re holding money over my head.”

He scoffed. “The world holds money over everyone’s head. It’s a fact of life.”

“Like it’s that easy. I don’t know why you suddenly think you can judge me.”

“Because I know you!”

He didn’t, not at all. If he really knew me he wouldn’t be here. He wouldn’t care about me. But I couldn’t say that, so I just backed away from him and shook my head. I wanted this conversation to be over, but he wasn’t done. He said, “I think you’re just scared.”