Page 68 of Four Steps to the Perfect Fake Date

“What changed?” she asked quietly.

His jaw flexed, and it took a few long seconds for him to speak. When he did, Calvin’s voice was low. “I had my first taste of alcohol when I was fourteen,” he said. “By the time I failed senior year, I couldn’t go a day without a drink. Took everything in me not to flunk out completely and forget about the whole thing, but somehow I managed to scrape myself together and show up enough to graduate a year late. I’d spent a decade fending for myself while my mom jumped from man to man. She’d marry someone thinking they’d fix her life, then divorce and move on to the next. I got lost in the shuffle, I think. Everything seemed hopeless. I didn’t see the point of doing things the way I was meant to do them.”

Daphne’s heart ached. She held herself still as Calvin massaged one calf and then the other, his palms sweeping over her skin, his fingers digging into knots he found in her muscle, his thumbs making slow circles over her flesh as if the feel of her body calmed him. She wasn’tsure if he was touching her for her sake or his, but she knew she didn’t want him to stop.

“My mom always wanted a good life. She married men she thought would get her ahead. My dad had a steady job at the ferry terminal, but with me coming along so early and only one income, life was tough. He died, and she could move on easier, then. Now she’s on her fourth husband, and she’s finally made it.” His lips twisted bitterly as he slid his hands back down to her ankles, touching the swollen, bruised skin of her injury with a tenderness that was at odds with the strength of his hands.

“I’m sorry, Calvin.”

He blinked and turned to meet her gaze. A shadow of a smile tugged his lips. “Nothing for you to be sorry about, Cupcake.”

The nickname didn’t sound so mocking when he said it then. “Why do you call me that?”

His smile widened. “You don’t remember?”

Frowning, Daphne stared into his honey-colored eyes. “Remember what?”

“Your birthday. We had your dad for chemistry, and—”

“He made me cupcakes.”

Calvin laughed. “Your face got so red when he brought them out.”

“I begged him not to mention my birthday. That was so embarrassing.”

“They were good, though.”

Daphne huffed, head lolling on the throw pillow. Her eyes lingered on Flint’s features, and she loved the way his gaze softened when it met hers. When he smiled, he was so handsome it almost hurt to look at him. “I remember now,” she said, braiding her hands over her stomach. “You were sitting behind me—”

“I always sat behind you.”

Daphne stuttered, then recovered and said, “And you whispered ‘Happy birthday, Cupcake’ in my ear.”

“I thought you were going to smash your cake in my face.”

“I considered it.”

Flint laughed, his hands still stroking her calves, ankles, and feet. “I was so jealous that day. No one had ever made me a birthday cake, and you didn’t even seem to appreciate yours. It felt good to make you mad.” His smile turned a little sad. “Sorry.”

“I forgive you,” Daphne responded, a wry smile on her lips. She opened her mouth to ask him about never having had a birthday cake of his own, but reconsidered. How was it even possible? A life without a family who showered her with affection, even if they didn’t quite get it right all the time. Suddenly, she felt like an ungrateful brat for not appreciating her family. They only saw her through the lens of Responsible Daphne, but she’d never questioned their love for her.

She met Flint’s gaze and found him watching her. “I can’t believe you still speak to your mother,” she said. “I’m not sure I would. My family members have their flaws, but I know in my soul I can count on them.”

“I probably wouldn’t speak to her if it weren’t for Ceecee,” the man whose hands touched her like she was precious admitted. “The only reason I took the job as Fernley’s sheriff was to make sure my sister wasn’t experiencing what I went through. I’m not sure how I feel about my mother. A big part of me doesn’t care and just wants to let it all go, but she keeps trying to reach out. Another part of me hates the fact that she’s happy.”

“I’ll sabotage the dance and smack her in the face with a feather at the vow renewal if you want me to.”

He laughed, then, a full, deep sound. His eyes sparkled as he shook his head. “I appreciate it, but no. I don’t think that’ll make me feel better.” He squeezed her good ankle for emphasis, then said, “To answer your original question, what changed is that I moved away from Fernley and nearly drank myself to death by the time I was twenty years old. I was working nights at a warehouse, and the foreman found me passed out on the job. Instead of firing me, he took me home. It was the firsttime someone gave a shit about what happened to me. The first time I felt like an actual human being.”

Daphne’s throat constricted. Her eyes stung, but she didn’t want to cry. She didn’t think the man baring his soul to her would appreciate it right now.

“He let me stay with him for months while I cleaned myself up and figured out what I wanted to do. His father had been a cop, and I spent a lot of time talking to both of them. I figured the best thing I could do was find a career where at least it felt like what I was doing had meaning.”

Another crack formed in the armor that encased Daphne’s heart. “I’m so sorry, Calvin.”

His lips tugged. In a voice that was barely louder than a whisper, he admitted, “I like it when you use my name, Daphne. Sounds good coming from your lips.”

When he lifted his gaze to meet hers, his eyes were dark and haunted. He’d dredged up his past and handed it to her on a platter, and Daphne couldn’t figure out why. All she knew was that this man wasn’t the arrogant, full-of-himself jerk she’d thought he was. He wasn’t a bad boy with a chip on his shoulder who was all grown up and ready to cause more trouble. He was a complicated, honorable man who’d pulled himself out of his own personal hell through strength of will alone. He’d rebuilt himself, brick by brick, because that’s what he had to do to look himself in the eye every day.

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