Page 33 of Smooth Moves
Chapter 7
Cash and Jordan got a surprising amount of work done. He wouldn’t have thought they could do so much in so little time, but with her help, a few hours saw them clear out a good sixth of the house.
They’d stacked the donations along one wall. On the other, trash. To his bemusement, something good would come out of Angela’s shit. They’d use her belongings to help others. He knew Reid would agree, might even be proud of him for acting so mature about things. All thanks to Jordan.
The memories he’d tried to bury as he’d sifted through Angela’s possessions—those things that had been so much more important to her than him—hadn’t hurt as much as he’d imagined they would. What did that mean?
“Good job.” Jordan smacked him on the shoulder, her version of an attaboy that was supposed to hurt more than it did, most likely.
“Thanks. I mean,ow.” He rubbed his arm and pretended it hurt.
She rolled her eyes. “Those boxes over there can be donated too. But that last one has stuff you probably need to look through. I’ll be back.”
“Back? Where are you going?” She wasn’t leaving already, was she?
“To the john. That okay with you?” She turned on a huff and left him.
“Prickly little thing.” He moved the boxes then found the one she’d pointed out. He took it to the kitchen table, sat, and opened it.
Only to find it full of old photographs.
Back then, his mother had been keen on family. She’d documented everything, filling old photo albums with a zeal to capture every memory.
Shock held him immobile as he stared at a picture of him, Reid, and his parents, all smiling and happy. He had to be five or six years old, so little, and so proud of that stupid football he’d received as a present from his father. He turned it over and saw the date. Christ. That picture was from his sixth birthday party. He remembered his mother kissing his cheeks and laughing. His father tossing the pigskin and smiling, praising Cash for being such a natural. Then Reid begging to play too, and the four of them enjoying the sunny spring weather before Cash’s friends arrived for his big birthday celebration.
It all seemed so normal, a long-ago life belonging to someone else.
So strange to remember that time as if it were yesterday, a clear and present echo of better days.
Because just a year later his life had changed, and everything he’d once thought about himself had gone out the window. He hadn’t been a good boy at all; he’d been bad. The worst son a parent could have. Shitty and worthless, except in Reid’s eyes.
His brother used to look at him as if Cash could do no wrong, no matter what their father said. Until Cash had fucked up one too many times in high school and been kicked out of the house. Fourteen years later, he’d been booted out of the USMC. Fired from one job to the next until Reid had created Vets on the Go! to help Cash.
Reid had fixed everything, the way he’d been trying to fix everything throughout their childhood. What kind of life was that for a young boy who’d never put a foot wrong?
Standing here, in the place where Charles Griffith had made it his mission to teach Cash how useless he was, brought it all back.
He sifted through more photos, all of him and the family in the “golden” years, that time before life had turned upside down.
Footsteps neared. “Wow. Is that you?” Jordan lifted a picture from the table to study it closely. “You were so cute,” she teased. “What happened?”
He shrugged and started stuffing the old photos back into the box. “Good question.” After a moment of silence, he glanced up and saw her watching him.
She handed him back the photo, her gaze soft. “I was just kidding.”
“I know.” He stuffed it back in and closed the box. “Put this with the throwaways.”
“Do you think Reid might want some?”
Cash glowered. “Who the hell knows?” Though the plan had been to go through everything and give Reid a chance to look through some things, Cash didn’t want to remind Reid of a time that had never been real, or of Cash’s youth, back when he’d first shown signs of being such a fuckup.
I’ve grown since then, done a few good things with my life. Hell, I even saved a few guys from enemy fire.
The thought of having done some good meant shit because here, in this house, he was nothing but a loser who hadn’t amounted to anything.
“I’ll take care of this,” he said to Jordan, unable to face her, sure she’d see the truth he always tried so desperately to hide.
He grabbed the box and stacked it in the disposable section.
