Page 2 of Coming Up Roses

“I’m so sorry, Cash. Never did like her, but I didn’t think she was that . . .”

“Man, I didn’t even see it coming,” I whisper into the phone. My voice breaks, utterly defeated. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know what to do? Pack your shit and head to Dogwood. Come home, Cash.”

“Right, because it’s just that easy. I can totally just throw my shit into the back of my truck and move. I have obligations here, Jake. I can’t just up and move because Kayla fucked me over.”

“Wasn’t you she was fucking, Cash.”

“Thanks, Jake. Because that isn’t still fresh in my mind,” I snarl.

“Check yourself. I know you’re pissed, but don’t take it out on me.”

I huff out a harsh breath. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m so damn angry.”

We both know he isn’t the problem. Kayla is. And maybe I am too. How could I have been so blind? I jump up from the bed and start pacing the small room, trying to get a grip on the rage building inside me.

“I bet you are. If Paige ever . . . Jesus. Do you know how long? Not like that matters. Once is enough.”

“It was definitely more than once. I can feel it.” My eyes are watering, but I refuse to let the tears spill. Man up, Cash. “I wasted all this time. I had plans, a vision, and she shot it all to hell. What am I gonna do, Jake?” I fish the ring box out of my pocket and just stare at it. I was so damn convinced this little box was the key to my future—our future. What a joke. I slam it down onto the small table by the door and zone back in on my brother’s words.

“Listen, here’s the plan. You’re gonna talk to her.” I start to interrupt him, but he just keeps on. “Sucks, I know, but it has to be done. Y’all are going to get shit sorted with the house and the lease. Then you’re going to pack up and come home. Stay here, or at Mom’s, or Drake’s, until you figure out a plan. You have options. Use them. You know you can do some work from here. That’s the joy of self-employment. Stop overthinking. You can’t change what happened, you hear me?”

“Yeah, I hear you. I’ll call you in a few days and let you know what’s up. Thanks, brother.”

I know I need to call my mom. And Kayla. I rub my hand down my face, the full weight of my exhaustion settling in. I toss my phone down beside the little black box and collapse into the rickety chair next to it as a cloud of dust floats up around me.

Tomorrow. I’ll call them tomorrow.

* * *

The soundof someone knocking wakes me, and I stumble as I walk to check the door, my muscles stiff from sleeping in that damn chair all night. I look through the peephole and there she is. Kayla. How in the hell did she know where to find me?

“Cash, I know you’re in there!” Seriously, how does she know I’m here? “Open the door, Cash. We need to talk.” She sounds angry, and that’s just fuel to my fire. What right does she have to be mad?

“How the hell did you know where to find me?” I whisper-shout at her through the crack in the door.

“Open up and I’ll tell you, Cash.”

“You can tell me now.”

“I checked your bank account. Your room here was the last charge.”

“You’ve got some nerve.” I throw open the door, ready to tear into her. My outrage over her checking my bank account takes a backseat when I see what looks like all of my belongings shoved into garbage bags piled around her feet. “What the fuck is all of this?”

“Your stuff from the house,” she says slowly. Like saying it slow clarifies anything. So, I ask her again, and she sighs like she’s being inconvenienced. “Look, Cash, obviously, we weren’t working out. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it.” Her tone is so fucking nonchalant, like she’s telling me the goddamn weather.

“You’ve been meaning to talk to me about us . . . ‘not working out’? Are you kidding me right now?” I pinch the bridge of my nose in an effort to control my temper. A few people are staring at us from the parking lot, so I usher her inside, not in the mood to carry this conversation out in front of an audience.

I park myself back in the chair I slept in while she perches on the edge of the bed. “Cash, I’m not happy. I haven’t been for a long time.”

I stare at her in disbelief. “So, you cheated?”

“I met Kevin, and he just sparked something in me. I–I don’t know how to explain it, and even if I could, I doubt you’d understand. He just has this passion for me, and it—”

“Stop!” I cut her off, not wanting to hear any more. “Almost seven damn years down the drain. How long have you been seeing him?”

“Three years.” I stare at her in disbelief. Who is this girl in front of me?

“You know what? Fuck this, you, all of it. You can go.” She doesn’t move an inch. “Get out, Kayla!”

“Cash, be reasonable, we still need to talk.”

“Be reasonable? REASONABLE? I’m about three years past reasonable,” I roar, my temples throbbing from the adrenaline rushing through me. “I bought a goddamn ring, Kayla. I was going to propose. We had an entire life planned together, and y–you blindside me with this—with him.” It’s then she notices the ring box on the table. Her eyes flick from it, then over to me, from me to her left hand, and then back to me. My eyes follow hers, guiding me straight to the ring on her left hand. A ring I didn’t put there. My brain can’t seem to catch up with what’s happening.

“I love him. We’re getting married, Cash. I already talked to our landlord, and he’s allowing us to break the lease. Something about a commercial offer on the house. It’s over. We’re over.”

My fucking world implodes. I drop my head into my hands to hide the tears trailing down my cheeks. “Just go.”

---