Page 25 of Rope Me In

Then he walks off, leaving me baffled.

Chapter 9

Kade

Another day, another hangover.If I wrote a story about my life, I think that’s what I’d call it. OrHow to Fuck Up 101.

Last night, after I was a complete asshole to Presley for no reason, my flask and I became best friends. I tried to resist, but the whole situation with Cricket pissed me off. And now, my new coworker probably thinks I dated Cricket and she cheated on me. In actuality, I was standing up for my brother. He had dated Cricket before he met Blake, and she’d cheated on him after Dad died.

The kicker is, I have nobody but myself to blame for last night. Before my accident, I gave Cricket some mild attention to piss off my brother, and she’s been trying to get in my pants ever since. She’s probably also trying to piss off Gavin and make him jealous, which will never happen since he’s utterly head over heels in love with Blake.

What really sent me over the edge was not just the fact that Cricket was being rude to Presley—I still don’t understand why that pissed me off—but that when Gavin came in, he acted all upset that I was even getting on Cricket’s case. It proved to me that I can do no right when it comes to him, even when I’m trying to be a good brother.

“Are you going to stare at your coffee or drink it?”

I lift my eyes from the coffee in question, which has probably gone lukewarm by now, and meet the honey-brown eyes ofMomma. She’s wearing her favorite pair of worn jeans and a rose-colored long-sleeve sun shirt Blake got her for her birthday, her silver-and-blonde hair tied in a loose ponytail.

“I thought you’d be out in the garden already,” I say, taking a sip of the bitter liquid that indeed has gone cold.

She walks over and pours herself a cup before sitting next to me at the kitchen table. “Slept in a little.”

Momma tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and smiles, the morning sun creating a halo around her head. The picture she makes has me thinking of Dad. He always called her a natural beauty, the girl that everyone wanted in high school but he got lucky enough to have. Now, in the year since his death, grief has aged her. She’s still beautiful, but more lines have appeared at the corner of her eyes and around her mouth, and there’s a slump to her shoulders I’ve never noticed before.

Guilt gnaws my gut, because I know my actions have given her many of those lines and wrinkles. I’ve contributed to the sadness in her eyes.

I take another sip of my coffee. “That’s good. Glad you got some rest.”

She nods, silence settling around us so all we can hear is the old clock ticking in a staccato cadence. The longer we don’t talk, the louder the ticking seems to get. I tap my fingernails on my mug, the lack of words between us leaving me to my thoughts.

I used to talk to Momma all the time, and I never had a problem thinking of what to say. Even before my accident, I could charm the hell out of her. She knew I was drinking, seeing girls most nights, but she never tried to stop me or said anything about it. Gavin attempted to get her to scold me, but she brushed him off. It was one thing I appreciated, that she was letting me have my space to grieve my way. To figure things out.

But after that day at the cemetery and the accident, our relationship shifted. Now, I find it hard to talk to any of my family members, especially Momma. I know she’s in pain. I can see it on her face every time she looks at me. I know she regretsnot trying to talk with me before the accident, but I imagine finding out the love of her life had been keeping secrets from her for years wasn’t easy, either.

In a lot of ways, I think we can relate to that disappointment. Dad was my best friend, and I loved him. We may not have talked about our feelings, but we talked about everything else. Except the truth, which is what mattered most.

Given all of that, I’d have thought talking to Momma about everything would be easier, to talk about the pile of shit Dad left for us. How he betrayed us with his lies, how Gavin continued that lie. But speaking about big things, being vulnerable, it’s not something the Montgomerys have ever been good at. It’s not something anyone in Randall is good at. Life is hard out here. You simply learn to pick up the pieces when shit goes wrong and move on. You don’t have time to glue them back together.

“Kade,” Momma’s timid voice says.

I blink, unsure of how long I’ve been staring at my coffee again. I meet her eyes, my caffeine- and alcohol-filled stomach turning over at the concern I see in them. I know she says she’s forgiven me for punching Gavin at the cemetery and for getting myself hurt at Devil’s Rock, but I don’t believe her. I know she’s disappointed in me, and I’m positive Gavin’s made her aware of my behavior the last few days since my doctor’s appointment.

“Are you alright, Kade?”

I grip my hand around the mug. I should be glad she’s asking me how I am now. I know she cares for me, but her question just adds to my growing anger because I’m sure she’s asking because of Gavin.

“I’m fine.”

Her eyes scan my body, stopping on the center of my chest like she’s trying to see if my heart’s beating. I clench my jaw, and that stabbing pain in my sternum returns. I know she’s thinking of the day Dad died from his heart attack, the day he went off to till the soil and never came home. Momma was the one to find him, and it still crushes me that she had to see that.

I reach my hand across the table and place it over hers. “My ticker is fine, Momma, I promise.” She brings those comforting brown eyes of hers to mine, blinking away the tears that threaten to fall.

“Good. That’s good,” she says, as if trying to reassure herself. With a tight smile, she pulls her hand out from under mine. I think she’s going to sit back, but instead, she grabs my hand and squeezes.

“You’re so much like him, you know? Look just like him, too.”

I bristle, my features turning hard. I was not expecting her to say that. She hardly talks about Dad now, and I can’t say that I blame her. And while once I would’ve loved to be compared to Emmett, that’s changed. I should probably just leave this conversation now, but my curiosity gets the best of me.

“How so?” I remove my hand from hers to sit back.

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