Page 3 of Dirty Play

“Based on the name, they definitely aren’t reading Nicholas Sparks level of spice,” I chime in, unable to help myself.

“Now, Cade, you’re not getting off the hook that easy. Is that really all we’re getting? You can’t even give us something little?” Harris pokes.

“Yes, that’s all you’re getting. We went to the concert. It was nice.” I roll my eyes, hoping he’ll let it go, but of course he doesn’t. “We had fun, listened to music, then came home. We’re friends, that’s all. Now, can we finish this workout? I’m getting fucking hungry and you’re somehow even more annoying when I’m hangry.”

“Whatever. One day you’ll spill the tea,” Miles grumbles, shoulders slumped as he turns to finish his workout.

I feel bad they keep asking and I won’t give them anything. I’m just not in the mood to have a conversation about Gwen, I never am. They think they know everything about us and give me a ton of shit already. If they knew about all the other times we hung out—the times we hung out away from the group—they’d be insufferable.

That’s why I don’t mention the times we’ve bumped into each other and decided to grab drinks, staying out far too late just talking about music. Or the time she needed help setting stuff up in her apartment and didn’t know who to call, so I went and hung her TV and built her furniture.

I made her promise to never buy IKEA furniture again unless they fix their fucking instructions.

If the guys knew about all of this, they’d say there was something between us, something more than just friends, and damn, I wish I could tell them they’re right. I’ve always had a crush on her. But I’ve only ever let myself acknowledge it in the dark.

Outside of that, I just deny it.

Deny, deny, deny.

After a quick shower and a plan to meet at the pub down the street for some food, I’m finally walking out to my car. I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket for the fifth time since we finished our workout. Chances are high it’s just my mother again, so I let it go to voicemail like usual; that way I can listen to it and respond by text message. It’s easier to decide a conversation is over when you can just choose to not respond to a message.

Over the phone, it’s always a lot of questions I don’t have answers to and awkward silences that fill the rest of the time, and I’m just not cut out for that.

Especially when anytime I’m talking to my mom or anyone in my family, I want to apologize for what I did, to beg for their forgiveness. But I don’t deserve it, so it’s just been easier to avoid them all together. This time, though, when I grab my phone to double-check, I see another name flash across the phone as it starts ringing in my hand—again.

Kylie.

My little sister.

Usually, when my parents are trying to get a hold of me, and I don’t respond, they get my sister involved. Kylie is my little sister, but she lectures me like she’s older and more mature. As much as I want to ignore it and send her straight to voicemail, I promised myself I would never send her calls to voicemail. I can ignore everyone else, especially Vince because he never calls, but Kylie knows I’ll answer her calls in case there’s an emergency.

“Hello,” I say into the phone, carrying the rest of my gear in my other hand.

“So, you are alive,” she snaps, her tone crisp, annoyance evident. “Do you realize every day you don’t answer her phone calls you’re breaking her heart a little more?”

Her words hit me hard, exactly like she intended. I hate the way she’s upset with me, even though I only have myself to blame. I’ve caused this entire mess; I can’t expect someone else to clean it up for me.

“Yes, Ky, I am. Is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine. Am I not allowed to call my big brother and just say hi?”

I sigh, knowing if I answer truthfully, she’ll call me a dick.

“I guess you can,” I grit out, getting into my 4Runner and starting her up, getting the heat going. If I have to have this conversation, at least I can be comfortable.

There’s a moment of silence, neither of us saying anything. I can hear her breathing on the other end of the line until finally, I hear her sigh.

“Why do you have to make everything so difficult, Cade?” she whines. “Look, Mom and Dad miss you. I miss you. Will you come home for their anniversary party? It’s a couple of months away and we both know it’s in your off-season, so you can’t use that as an excuse.

There’s not a chance I’m going back home. I haven’t been home in years. At least five years… possibly more. There’s nothing for me back there. Just memories and heartbreak. It’s better for everyone if I stay far away.

Especially for my family.

“I’m not making anything difficult, Ky. It’s just… I’m not coming home. I can’t come home.”

“That’s not true, Cade. It’s your home. We’re your family. Why can’t you just stop running from everything?” Kylie says, her voice softer, filled with sadness now. “Mom hasn’t been the same since you left.”

“No. Mom hasn’t been the same since our sister died. I just make it worse. I know it and I think deep down, you do too,” I growl, one hand running through my hair as I wait for her to talk. Instead, all I can hear through my car speakers is her breathing, all but confirming my statement.

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