By the third week of living in Cash’s house, things were finally settled.

After that one accident in her new underwear, Aria was basically potty trained. I still wasn’t sure what Cash had done to perform that miracle, but I couldn’t complain. He claimed it was the magazine, and ever since then, he’d grabbed a new one every weekend when he was home. However, she still couldn’t get through the night without the need of a diaper, but Cash said he’d figure it out.

I wondered how long it’d take him to realize those magazines weren’t how-to guides.

In the meantime, we’d installed a baby gate at the entrance to the hallway to keep her from wandering around the house and possibly going outside while I slept. I could no longer close her door at night in the event she woke up and had to use the bathroom. This also created the problem of getting her to go to sleep. As soon as she realized she could get out of her room, she’d make no less than four attempts each night at coming into the living room after bedtime.

On the weekends, Cash took it upon himself to assert his authoritative role. That was laughable. When making her clean up her messes, he’d sit on the floor with her and help. During dinner, he’d back me up when I told her she needed to eat her vegetables, but when I wasn’t looking, he’d eat them for her. He thought he was slick, but I wasn’t blind to what he was doing; I just decided not to call him out on it. And at night, when she’d climb out of bed and try to join us on the couch, he’d take her back to her room and read “one” more story. I didn’t complain because he clearly didn’t mind. In fact, I started to believe he enjoyed his newfound role in our lives.

And then I spent a lot of time denying the emotions those thoughts elicited.

But by the fourth week, I started to go stir-crazy. I loved the freedom I had, but I wasn’t sure I could take one more day of the loneliness that came with living with Cash. I talked to him about it one night on the phone, telling him how I could relate to his feelings of isolation. Even though I had Aria to take care of, I could only do the same things so many times before my daily existence became torturous. He suggested I use the computer to search for jobs on the island. I didn’t care to argue with him, considering he was only trying to help, so I told him I would and dropped it.

The next day, after a particularly horrible tantrum, I used the quiet time during Aria’s nap to browse the local employment opportunities. To my surprise, there were several that would allow me to bring Aria along. As much as I needed something more full time for financial reasons, I was willing to take anything if it meant I didn’t have to continue drawing from my savings. The only thing that helped keep me from spending as much was the couple of times Cash had done the shopping, which ensured we’d have enough food to last a nuclear holocaust—as long as we were happy living off a random hodgepodge of raw vegetables and chocolate pudding.

“So, tell me about your job,” Stevie prodded with excitement ringing in her tone.

I closed the front door behind me and made myself comfortable on the bench seat while watching the waves roll in across the street. Aria was down for her nap, and with her bedroom door left open, I worried she’d hear me talking on the phone and wake up.

“The library on the island has a children’s section, so I will go in twice a week to stock it. I clean and organize the shelves, put the returned books back where they belong, keep the toy section in order. Tuesdays and Thursdays for six hours each day.”

“And you can bring Aria? Wow, Jade. That sounds perfect. How’s the pay?”

“It’s not a lot, but it covers my expenses.”

“So when do you start?”

It’d taken us a while, but we’d finally gotten to a place where I could talk about my life here without her voicing her concerns. It didn’t matter that Cash had an answer for every last one of them, she didn’t know him, so therefore, that meant he couldn’t be trusted. That all changed a couple of weeks ago when I’d invited her over while Cash was in town. They’d spent one day together, and suddenly, she no longer had a problem with him. Granted, she put him through the ringer, making me believe an interview for the CIA would’ve been easier than what she’d put him through. Now, she was more concerned about my heart getting broken for a different reason. She claimed he looked at me with hearts in his eyes, and made a big deal about the way he’d touch me—which I’d grown used to and no longer gave much thought. He’d expressed his lack of sexual attraction toward me, and even though it had hurt to hear, I’d accepted that it was best.

“Next week. My first official day is Tuesday.” I practically had a countdown on my calendar. Just the thought of getting out of the house and having a place to go twice a week that didn’t involve a grocery store made me giddy.

We talked for a little bit longer about Aria, Derek, Cash, her new apartment, and a few wasted minutes on my mother, before her lunch break ended and she had to head back. As much as I loved our phone calls, I hated the physical distance between us. She’d tried several times to get me to drive over and spend a few days on the other coast, but I politely declined each time. I had no interest in returning—other than to see Stevie—but at least she made the effort to come to me. She claimed to understand my need to stay away, but I suspected she’d likely stop making the trip once the newness of my move wore off.

And that’s what bothered me the most.

Long after our call had ended, I remained on the porch, lost in thought as the waves moved in and out. A few older women walked along the shore, a dog darting back and forth a few times, and several boats going so fast they looked like they floated across the surface of the ocean in the distance. But mostly, I watched a woman, maybe a little older than me, building a sandcastle with a young boy. It made me realize that even though everything appeared to be falling into place—Aria, getting a job, finding an easy and effortless routine with Cash—I was still missing one thing.

And it happened to be the one thing that pushed Cash to find a roommate.

Aside from the weekends, my life lacked companionship. I’d hoped that hole would be filled with a job—coworkers and the people who’d come in and out during my shifts—but that still left the days in between and the hours before and after void of the kind of human interaction I craved. I yearned for a more steady, reliable support system than a few strangers bringing their children into the library to read a book. And while I regarded the woman and the boy on the beach in front of the house, I found myself daydreaming of having friends on the island. Of getting together with a few other moms and relaxing in the sand while our kids played together on the beach. By the time I shook out of the fantasy, the woman was gone.

“One thing at a time,” I told myself as I headed back inside. “Job first, then friends.”

* * *

I could’ve gone down the line, starting with Monday and ending with Friday, and given a laundry list of reasons to prove how each day was the worst of the week. Monday because Cash went back to work. Aside from it being lonely, it was also the time Aria threw the biggest fit. She missed Cash and didn’t understand why he was gone, which broke my heart, but it also left my every last nerve sizzling and burnt to a crisp—no, Monday’s tantrum surpassed fried nerves. I had looked forward to Tuesday, yet by two in the afternoon, it’d earned the title of being the worst day of the week. As much as I enjoyed the freedom of bringing Aria to the library with me, she’d apparently lost interest after two hours, and missing her regularly scheduled nap only made things worse, causing me to be sent home an hour early.

Wednesday wasn’t too bad where Aria was concerned, but I became convinced that hump day would never end. This week, I was exhausted after running around the library for five hours yesterday—even though it felt like ten—which only intensified the normal feelings of loneliness I experienced since moving to Geneva Key. Thursday had been much of the same as Tuesday, yet I didn’t get to leave early. I worked the entire six-hour shift, of which the last two hours Aria curled up with a giant stuffed bear in the sorting room where she cried herself to sleep. Needless to say, dreamland didn’t elude me that night.

And then Friday came. Even before I started my job, I’d wake up convinced it was the worst day of the week. Just the thought of Cash being home when I woke up the next morning made every second stretch on. Even though we spoke on the phone almost every night, it wasn’t the same as having him here. His presence offered me a sense of safety—not that I’d ever felt unsafe without him, yet the comfort of his close proximity set my mind at ease. But more than that, he gave me the company I’d lacked when he was gone.

And today was no different. Once I made it to dinnertime, the rest of the evening was a breeze. It was the one night I didn’t have to fight Aria to go to sleep. All I had to do was tell her Cash wouldn’t come home if she didn’t stay in bed and close her eyes, and she’d be passed out within minutes. Come December, she’d wonder why both Cash and Santa wouldn’t show up if she were awake, but I figured I’d cross that bridge when we got there. We still had a few more months before I had to have an explanation.

Normally, waiting up for Cash wasn’t an issue. I would be so excited to have another adult in the house that I literally couldn’t fall asleep. But after the change in my schedule due to starting my job, I wasn’t sure I’d make it. So, rather than lie in bed and listen for the door, I sat on the couch and watched TV. By midnight, I’d gone from sitting to curled up on the armrest. It must not have been much later that I’d fallen asleep, only to be woken when Cash draped a blanket over me.

I rubbed my eyes to focus on him, instantly feeling better as soon as I realized he was home. “Hey,” I whispered and tried to sit up.

Seeing his smile before I was fully awake made me melt. When I wasn’t half asleep, it was easy to remind myself that he didn’t have romantic feelings for me. But while my brain was still under a dense fog of slumber, I didn’t have the wherewithal to keep myself from falling for him, allowing myself to believe those smiles were reserved for me.

“Hey,” he repeated in the sexiest voice I’d ever heard. “You’re tired; maybe you should go to bed.”

I shook my head, trying to break free from the white-knuckled grip of exhaustion. “No. I’d rather stay up and talk to a real person.”

He chuckled beneath his breath but didn’t take a seat on the couch. “Are things so bad you’ve been talking to imaginary people?”

“You know what I mean—an adult. Someone who says more than ‘I hungee,’ and ‘I go potty.’ A real person who doesn’t require me to wipe their nose or butt, and who can follow a conversation for longer than fifteen seconds before running off to chase some magical unicorn.” The longer I talked, the whinier I sounded.

But Cash didn’t seem to mind. He finally fell onto the cushion next to me, laughing at our inside joke about Aria’s train of thought. She had run up to him on the beach one day, excited to tell him some story about the waves. Her hands moved a million miles a minute as she animatedly told him things neither of us could comprehend. As soon as she was done, he’d gotten maybe five words out before she turned around and ran back into the water, oblivious to the fact that Cash had been in the middle of a sentence. He’d turned to me, his expression utterly serious, and said, “Oh, look…a magical unicorn.”

“You’ll make friends. Give it time. Then you won’t need me here anymore.” He’d meant it as a joke, but for whatever reason, be it hormonal or lack of sleep—or quite possibly, the mental effects caused by unmitigated loneliness—it made me sad.

I automatically curled into his side and draped my arm across his stomach. And without a moment’s hesitation, Cash wrapped his arm around my shoulders, holding me close. Even though we didn’t sit like this often, there had been times over the last month and a half when I just needed the human contact. At first, he’d been the one who’d pull me into him, probably sensing my need for affection. Now, when I craved the comfort only his embrace could offer—usually when I was tired or sad—I was the one who’d initiate it. And every time, he’d put his arm around me, release a sigh, and relax, as if holding me close consoled him, too.

“How was work?” I asked, breathing in his scent.

“Boring.”

I leaned my head back, nestling my neck in the crook of his elbow, and grew lost in those endless pools of rich chocolate. I’d done this thousands of times before, yet this time felt different. The way he looked at me was different. His brows furrowed the slightest bit, as if I had something strange on my face. But it all changed when I reached up to graze the pad of my thumb over one eyebrow to clear away the tension. It appeared my touch had spurred him into action.

He lowered his face, bringing our lips so close I could feel his every breath. Yet he hesitated with the tip of his nose grazing mine. I cupped his cheek, and in the blink of an eye, he went for it. His mouth covered mine, and the realization caused me to freeze momentarily. I just sat there and stared at his eyelids until his lips parted, opening my mouth. His tongue on mine was all I needed to fall into this with him.

I closed my eyes and allowed myself to take everything in—his hand on my thigh, his mouth on mine, our tongues dancing together at the perfect pace. It did something to me, sparked something inside I’d never felt before. It gave me the courage to pull myself over him and straddle his hips, our chests pressed together. This was all new to me—not the action, but the sensation and my willingness. It was like experiencing the sand beneath my toes for the first time. Warm and inviting. Calming. Serene.

Until it wasn’t.

Cash grazed the side of my body with his hand before threading my hair through his fingers. His open palm cradled the back of my head, and just as I began to melt into him, he fisted his hand and gently pulled my hair tight against my scalp.

It was enough to remind me…of everything.

I gasped and pushed away, frantically climbing off his lap, but it wasn’t Cash in front of me. It wasn’t Cash’s face I saw. Anyone could’ve been sitting on the couch, and I wouldn’t have seen them. I wouldn’t have recognized anything other than the face of my nightmare.

Of his brown hair and green eyes, trimmed beard, pointy nose and chin.

As I retreated, the coffee table hit the backs of my legs, almost causing me to tumble to the ground. But I caught myself and scurried to the middle of the room. Cash started to say something behind me, but I couldn’t hear him, too lost in the dark and damp tunnel of my despair.

“Don’t you see what you do to me, Jade?” The way he said my name twisted my stomach.

“You make me weak, Jade.” It suffocated me.

“The things you make me do… You’re the worst kind of temptress, Jade.” Blinded me.

“Jade?” My name was louder, closer, fear woven between the letters and weighing heavily in the one syllable. Nothing like the voice in my head. “Jade? Talk to me. Please.” When I turned around, dark-brown eyes narrowed on me. His forehead, normally so relaxed and smooth, was now deeply creased with panic, brows knitted tightly together. “What happened? What’d I do?”

“I’m so sorry, Cash.” I took a step back. “I didn’t mean to do that. I think I was still half asleep. It’ll never happen again, I swear.”

“What are you talking about?”

I held up my hands to stave him off, ignoring the way my entire body shook. I hated how I couldn’t find my way back to the armor I naturally wore—the one set in place with smiles and jokes and confidence. I’d long since shed the weakness that had painted me like a canvas, but at this moment, it came back—like Carrie at prom, I was soaked in a bucket of pig’s blood. I wanted nothing more than to wash it off, disgusted by the way it clung to my skin. But with Cash in the room, the moisture of his mouth lingering on my lips, I couldn’t concentrate enough to eliminate the unyielding thoughts of my past.

“You’ve made it clear you don’t find me attractive. I shouldn’t have—”

“I never said that.” His anger had started to hover at the surface.

I needed to run, to close myself off in my room for just a few minutes to shove these emotions down, back to the place I’d kept them all these years. I needed control. But I couldn’t do that in front of him.

“Fine…you don’t think of me that way. You don’t want me like that. I get it. I never should’ve touched your face or curled into your side. I’m sorry.”

“Would you fucking stop talking for one goddamn minute?”

The harshness in his tone froze me in place. My lungs quit working, my heart stalled, and my feet were suddenly weighted with cement blocks, preventing me from moving. But my hands…they remained in the air, trembling like I stood on a glacier in the coldest part of the world, soaking wet with nothing on.

When he realized I had stopped, his posture deflated. All anger drained from his face when he said, “You didn’t do anything. I kissed you, Jade. Me. Why would you blame yourself or think this is somehow your fault?”

“Because I started it. I came onto you.”

Confusion filled the void that anger had left behind in his eyes. “That’s what you think?”

Finally able to regain control of my body, I dropped my hands and prepared to leave the room. But first, I explained, “You don’t think I’m sexually attractive. You can’t deny that, because you’ve told me so yourself. So clearly, you didn’t make the first move—you wouldn’t have. I cuddled up next to you, put my arm around you. I’m the one who touched your face. I’m the one who pulled myself into your lap. That’s all me.”

“Jade…” He tried to keep me from leaving the room, but I didn’t give him the chance.

I turned and hurried through the kitchen, not bothering to close the baby gate behind me on my way to my room. The door didn’t close all the way, my fingertips barely connecting with the edge of it while I swung it shut behind me with far less strength than needed to make it latch. But I didn’t care. I needed a moment to collect myself, my thoughts. I sat on the bed, feet crossed beneath me, facing the headboard with my back to the door, and covered my face.

A faint knock alerted me to Cash’s presence, but I didn’t have the strength to say anything. So I kept my back to him and hoped he’d leave. Yet he didn’t. From the doorway, he sighed and then whispered, “I really need you to talk to me, Jade.”

“For the love of God, Cash. There’s nothing to talk about. I’m embarrassed enough as it is, so can we please not do this?” I didn’t mean to sound angry, but it didn’t stop the harsh words from spewing out.

“What the hell…?” It was barely audible, full of pain twisted with confusion.

His feet must’ve glided across the floor, because in less than a second, the mattress dipped behind me. Although, he kept his hands to himself—maybe out of fear, could’ve been due to repulsion. I couldn’t tell.

“Jade, please look at me.”

I turned to face him, realizing in that moment how badly I needed him with me. I had run away from him, tried to shut myself in my room. When he came to my door, I wanted him gone. I was embarrassed for him to see me like this, but I needed him. I needed the comfort only he could offer. And once I had my body twisted around, I finally calmed down, the tremors subsided.

“I have so much to say, but I don’t know where to start.” His eyes held the same trepidation that weighted his tone.

“How about nowhere? There’s nothing to talk about, Cash.”

“You jumped away from me like I was hurting you.”

“Yeah, thanks for the reminder.” As if it wasn’t embarrassing enough the first time, he had to go and bring it up, press me to talk about it. Well, I never talked about it, so little did he know, he didn’t stand a chance.

“Can you at least tell me why?”

I covered my face, hoping to conceal the emotions I knew he’d read in my expression. But he refused to let me hide. He carefully wrapped his thick fingers around my wrists and lowered my hands, and then he waited with the patience of Job until I met his apologetic stare.

“Why what, Cash?”

“Why you ran away from me.”

“I don’t know…I guess I realized what was going on and tried to stop it. But then I almost tripped over the coffee table. It was rather humiliating. I just wanted to get away so I could stop feeling so stupid.”

I’d spent years trying to get my mom to pay attention and ask questions. Yet she never did. Some people had assumed I’d acted out due to repressed anger after losing my dad. Others thought I was just a wayward teen who needed harsher punishments or more supervision. No one saw the signs, no matter how many I’d given. And now, someone recognized it. Cash saw what no one else did.

My prayer had been answered.

Even if it was too late.

His tongue ran along his bottom lip, and his gaze briefly fell to my hands before holding my stare. “Can we discuss the misunderstanding about whether or not I find you attractive?”

“Can we not and say we did?” My cheeks burned as if I were standing in the sun on the hottest day of summer. “I mean…there doesn’t seem to be much of a misunderstanding.”

“But there is, Jade.” His need to explain himself was desperate.

“You don’t have to tell me I’m pretty to make me feel better. That’s not what I’m looking for. You’ve already explained it, and honestly, I’m okay with it. You’ve made it clear from the very beginning that you were only looking for a friend, someone to spend time with on your days off, and that you have no interest in anything romantic. So I’ve never expected anything else.”

Grit filled his voice when he said, “I actually find you very attractive, and that’s not a lie. I’m not saying that to make you feel better, either. You’re beautiful, and to top it off, you’re kind and funny and thoughtful.”

I shook my head, disinterested in hearing his compliments. They would only serve to give me false hope, to make me believe in the impossible. Been there. Done that. The T-shirt was hideous. “You don’t have to explain, Cash. I get it. I already told you that.”

“You do? So you understand the difference between finding you beautiful and wanting to fuck you?” The vulgar question made my head snap up until I met his stare. “I didn’t think so. That’s what I was trying to tell you by saying I wasn’t looking for someone I find sexually attractive.”

“I know.” I nodded, almost too eagerly.

He didn’t seem to believe me, but at least he moved on, ending my embarrassment…for now. “Why do you feel it was your fault that I kissed you? Why did you freak out?”

I waved my hand in the air, gesturing to physical evidence—him, me, the open door that represented what had happened in the living room—that would help prove my next point. “How can you sit here and look me in the eyes while telling me you don’t find me sexually attractive, and then in the next breath, say that kiss was your idea?”

“You kissed me back, and then climbed into my lap…does that mean you want to have sex with me?”

I couldn’t tell him the truth without making our living situation even more awkward than I already had. There was no way I would’ve been able to explain how the sight of his bare chest made my body react in ways I’d never experienced before him. If I did that, it would be a safe assumption to say he’d never walk around without a shirt on again. And if he found out I’d taken notice of—on far more than one occasion—the way his basketball shorts accentuated his dick when he moved, proving he didn’t wear anything beneath them, he’d start changing into jeans after his shower, too.

I wasn’t ready to give up my favorite parts of every weekend.

So…I lied.

“No. I already told you I was half-asleep. I’ve had a long and tiring week, and the exhaustion must’ve left me in a fog when you came home. I didn’t mean it. I shouldn’t have—” The second his fingers gently wrapped around my wrist, my words died on my tongue. That’s when I realized I’d been staring at my hands in my lap while lying to him, and the moment I locked my surprised gaze with his, it was clear he’d figured it out.

But rather than call me out on it, he said, “Stop blaming yourself. Stop saying it was your fault. I kissed you. Got it? You didn’t do anything to make me do it. Maybe I’ve had a long week, as well. Maybe I was just as tired, and when I looked at you, I did something I shouldn’t have. We both played a part in what happened out there, yet I’m the one who kissed you. Trust me…I’m a big boy. No one can make me do anything against my will. Okay?”

I nodded, even though I disagreed. He may have been a big guy with muscles in places I wasn’t aware they existed, but I was all too familiar with how easily the female body could manipulate men.

“What happened to you, Jade?” he asked so quietly I wasn’t sure what the question was, but I didn’t need to ask him to repeat it because I could read it in his eyes. If they had the power to droop like those ceramic figurines of children, they would have. And even had I not seen that, I would’ve understood it in the way his chest steadily rose and fell with precise timing, as if he had to assert physical control over every breath he took.

“What do you mean?” I chose to play dumb rather than answer him.

“You were into the kiss at first, and then all of a sudden, it was like someone yanked you off my lap. Like you’d experienced PTSD or something. Couple that with the way you assumed the blame, and I’m convinced something happened to you in the past.”

“Umm…” I tried to start, but I had no idea where to begin. “It’s complicated.”

He blew out a wave of air that seemed to be laden with frustration. That was proven when he raked his hands through his hair and then blinked at me…as if batting his dark lashes would get me to open up and share all my deepest secrets. Granted, it probably would. But not this time.

“So that means it has something to do with your ex.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because every time I ask about him, that’s your answer. Then you immediately change the subject. All I know is you dated him when you were a teenager and have been broken up for three years. I’m assuming he’s also Aria’s father, but you’ve yet to confirm that. And if I’m right, then I also know he’s not a good person, because you don’t want him to have anything to do with her. So tell me…does this have to do with him?”

I shrugged, unable to speak. I couldn’t lie, no matter how badly I wanted to, because I knew he’d never believe it. With my luck, I’d try to make something up and end up telling him how Aria’s father was Justin Timberlake, but no one could ever find out because Jessica Biel would murder me. So…a shrug was all I could offer.

“Can you tell me anything else? What makes him so bad?”

“He’s older and manipulative. He’s just not a good person, okay?”

Cash nodded, and for a second, I thought he was about to drop it. But he didn’t. “How much older?”

“A lot.”

“And when did this start?”

“When I was sixteen.” Short answers were all I could give.

“Are we talking like he was in college? Or older than that?”

I fidgeted with my hands, and while I tried to form a response, I couldn’t stop the nervous habit of swallowing and licking my lips. He must’ve recognized it, because he shifted on the bed and placed his hands on my knees. Then he leaned toward me, moving directly into my line of sight. His eyes were all I needed to give me the strength to proceed.

“Older than that.”

He clenched his teeth together until his jaw ticced, and his grip on my knees tightened a fraction, just enough to show the slightest hint of a reaction. However, to me, it was a negative response, and I immediately wished I hadn’t said anything.

“I provoked it,” I justified quickly, needing to calm him down.

“How? How can you say that? I’m an adult, and there’s nothing about a sixteen-year-old I find even remotely attractive. It’s sick. It’s fucking disgusting…but that’s on him. Not you.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand, Jade.”

I shook my head and tried to glance away, but his grip on my knee tightened and brought me back to his devastating eyes.

“Is he the reason you believe it’s somehow your fault if a guy touches you?”

“Isn’t it? If I’m the one who provoked it, how is it not my fault?”

“What the fuck did he do to you?” His question wasn’t meant for me. It was soft and full of air, spoken to some ominous being rather than me.

It was like he could see straight into me, straight to the truth I’d kept buried.

The last three and a half months had been a lie.

A façade.

An illusion masking the reality.

And with one kiss, Cash managed to clear away the smokescreen.