Firing off duplicate texts to my sisters, I sent them an emergency all-call.
If you see Hannah, text ASAP.
Madison pulled a twisted stunt.
Hannah upset.
“
Fuck.
Think, Cade. Think.” My chest grew heavier with every second that ticked by.
Not knowing where else to look, I yanked the main entrance doors back open. The same people milled about in the front lobby. A concierge sat at his desk, and I walked up to him.
“Who’s the person directly above your general manager?”
The young man blinked. “I’m not sure, sir. The board members I think.”
Blowing out a breath in frustration, I texted Suzanne again. She hadn’t responded yet.
Call me. Urgent.
My phone rang seconds later. I shoved out through the back patio doors for privacy as I picked up the call. “Madison is drunk, in a skanky dress, and she just cornered me against my will, kissing me in front of Hannah. Now Hannah is MIA. Madison told me she was fired, so you may want to have security kick her out if they haven’t already.”
“O-oh, Cade. I’m so sorry. I hadn’t heard. I did call security after your text. Hold on a second.” The party sounds in the background faded, and I heard a door close before she came back on. “Here it is: an email from the board confirming Madison’s termination. It was sent just before the parties started. I’m sorry I didn’t stay on top of her issue. I could’ve warned you.”
I shook my head. “No, don’t worry about it. Knowing that in advance wouldn’t have stopped Madison.”
“Okay. I’ll follow up with security to make sure they’ve handled it. And again, I’m so sorry.”
I ended the call and went outside, prepared to search every square inch of the grounds. As I walked down a lit path, I thought about the spa. But when I got there, I found the doors had been locked at the late hour. Then I searched around the building, sticking to the sidewalks and paved surfaces.
After thirty minutes of searching the grounds, I came full circle, ending up at the front parking lot again. Hannah’s car remained beside mine. I crumpled down onto the curb, finding it hard to breathe.
I was a Grade A asshole. There were so many other ways I could’ve have handled Madison. I’d been offered an out by my sisters for the entire night. But no, I had to be king. Being cool, calm, and collected in the face of adversity had always been my strong suit.
To admit I needed help wasn’t written into my DNA. My instincts ran with taking on everything at once, juggling to make sure every ball got caught and tossed back up, seamlessly.
Only this time I’d dropped something fragile, irreplaceable.
Minutes blended into hours as I sat on the curb in the humid night. Waiting. For what, I hadn’t a clue. My death sentence, I supposed.
Texts had come through from each of my crew, chiming in with updates. No one had seen Hannah. Right when I was about to retrace my steps and start the search all over again, Kristen texted. Chloe had called Daniel to let him know she’d run into an upset Hannah right after the incident and taken her home.
Whose home? Chloe’s or Hannah’s?
Not that it really mattered. Hannah obviously didn’t want to talk to me, or she’d be here now. Would have texted me at least, to let me know she was okay.
But I knew my sins, and they’d been grave.
Possibly fatal.
None of the problem had to do with Madison, although she’d certainly been an instigating component. Part of it had to do with the difficulty Hannah had in opening herself wide and trusting again. Not only that I wouldn’t cheat on her, but that I would protect her—confide in her with everything, for fuck’s sake. I’d been irresponsible with that. Hadn’t given it the attention it rightfully deserved.
And maybe a million things could’ve happened, impossible to predict, but I knew in my gut something bad had been coming, that Hannah and possibly our relationship were in danger. Even with all the warning bells going off the last few weeks, I could’ve put Hannah first above everything else—all this worthless shit—but I’d chosen not to.
Maybe that said something dark and tragic about me. My therapist would probably call it a “hero complex.” Because guys like me thought we could save the world, handle it all perfectly. But the world had crashed down around me when I failed to keep safe the one person who counted on me the most.
At some point, with how great Hannah and I had been doing, and with how busy things had gotten in our lives, I’d forgotten the challenging path she had walked to get to this point—and how fragile she still remained in many respects beneath that tough front of hers.
“Cade.” Kristen sat down next to me on the curb.
“Hey.” My lungs burned, like every drag of oxygen scorched them.
“I’m so sorry, bro.” She hugged me with one arm. “What’re you still doing here?”
I closed my eyes and shook my head before dropping it onto my folded arms. “Nowhere to go.”
“What?” Her hand squeezed my shoulder when I sighed.
“Home has Ava,
our
dog. Hannah doesn’t want to see me. And I can’t make my legs move to leave this spot. Her car is sitting next to my Jeep. It’s like the moment I leave, that’s it.”
“So talk to her.”
I shook my head. “I can’t. She’s made it clear she doesn’t want me to. And maybe I don’t have the right to. She deserves better than me. I knew her issues. Had I stopped to really think about her needs and fears for just a moment, and she’d given me plenty of opportunities to do so—she’d even asked me to relinquish the reins with this in her own way for Christ’s sake—then she wouldn’t have gotten hurt. But I was pushing forward too hard too fast, without making sure Hannah was there with me. Now it’s too late.”
She rubbed my back. “Cade, that’s ridiculous. It’s a misunderstanding. Give it time, she’ll come around.”
I sighed heavily. “Don’t think so. I knew the stakes, but ignored them. I blew off the signs. My ego got in the way. I should’ve handed the event over to you and protected her. It was a huge thing for her to trust herself in the first place, let alone trust me. She went through weeks of therapy over the issues she’d had. I was reckless.” I should’ve been more careful, kept Hannah in the forefront of my mind with all things, especially where Madison was concerned. “All her scar tissue, all the trauma she’d finally healed over and moved on from, got ripped wide open today.”
“So that’s it? You’re not going to fight for her, fight for what the two of you have?”
“Not tonight. She needs time. And I need to get my head screwed on straight. I thought I could be what she needed. I’m the one who asked her to try. But I pushed her concerns aside. I’m the one who failed her.”
“Oh, Cade.” Kristen pulled me in tighter.
I clung to her. My entire world had imploded, and the small comfort of family support in the midst of ruin helped me to breathe for a moment.
“If I disappear for a while, you good to handle everything?” Hannah didn’t want to be around me now. And I didn’t trust myself to stick around and not force the issue to see her.
Her long pause made the air even heavier. “Yeah.”
I lifted my head finally, looking into eyes I hadn’t been ready to see yet. A world of sympathy gazed back at me. I gave her a hard unblinking stare until she reined it in and nodded, understanding.
Working past the choking cramp at the base of my throat, I swallowed hard. “Take care of Hannah too. She needs you. Needs all of you.”
“We will, Cade. She’s family.” A tear tracked down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it away. “You’re family too, baby brother. Don’t you disappear for long. We need you too.”
I gave her an absent nod. Because I was adrift and had no idea what I would do. Even if Hannah came around tomorrow, next week, next month, I didn’t know what it would take for me to be what she needed. But I sure as fuck didn’t want to be something she didn’t need.
I nudged a gentle fist into her chin. “If for nothing else, to kick your asses at Monopoly.” I forced the corners of my mouth up, but the attempted smile fell.
“Will you tell the others I’m heading out for a while? Kendall and Kiki? Mom and Dad? Ben…Mase?”
“I will, Cade. I’ll give them all your love.”
Good. Because the thought of composing a text to each of them was overwhelming.
I felt empty.
In the darkened hours of early morning, I stood in my hallway after an insomnia-filled night. The dim lighting distorted what I saw at first. Something white lay on the darker wood flooring in the entryway by the front door. The rectangular paper had been folded neatly, and I bent down to pick up the note in the dark space. The edges were sharp, almost scored at the crisp bends.
I stared at it, as if through sheer will the contents would transform into something good. Only a foreboding that weighed heavy around me caused a sickening pit to churn in my stomach. To prevent myself from throwing up in the hall, I walked toward the kitchen as I unfolded it.
I scanned the note.
In utter disbelief, I read it again, more slowly.
Hannah had written a letter of resignation. Not only from me. Not just from Invitation Only. In a clear overreaction, she hadn’t quit me and the business; she’d cut all ties. With Mase and Ben, with Ava, my sisters.
“Oh, the fuck you are.”
I bit the words out as I crushed the damned note in my fist. Seething, my breaths came quick and shallow. I paced twice, before heading straight back to my bedroom.
After stabbing my legs into a pair of jeans, I yanked my desk chair out, sat, and tossed the crumpled ball into the center of my desk. Then I forced deeper breaths into my lungs as I stared at her note.
She didn’t mean what she’d written—couldn’t possibly want this. In the midst of the love from my family and friends, Hannah had come alive. No way would I let her give that up.
Taking my time to spread the paper back out flat, I stared at the amount of wrinkles in it. Let them be. Let her see the evidence of my immediate anger with her ridiculous notion. Having a powerful message to send, I flipped it over to bare the blank side: a tattered canvas, perfect.
I grabbed a pen off of my stack of unpaid bills then began my reply.
Hannah,
I’m sorry. I didn’t protect you. I should’ve made you first. You’re the most important thing, and I failed you.
I reject your resignation.
When we started down this adventure, we both committed to giving it a go.
One of your greatest fears was risking our friendship and losing not only me, but Mase and Ben. My sisters. My parents.
They are all there for you. Yours as much as they are mine. The girls need you with Invitation Only. Mase and Ben need you. Ava needs you.
Fuck,
I
need you.
But I know I lost the right to have that mean anything. I know I fucked up.
But this note isn’t about that.
You want your space. I get it. But do it surrounded by your new family. Take care of them. They’ll need you while I’m gone.
Because you need your space, I’m heading out of town. I don’t trust myself to stay away from you. But I will be back for you.
No matter what you believe, I love you more than I love anything in this world.
I will love you forever,
Cade
With a burning lump in my throat, I folded the note, her words ending up on the outside.
One side of the folded rectangle had an entire blank surface, so I wrote a word that summed up my feelings about the whole damned thing.
Grabbing my leather duffel, I shoved a couple of pairs of jeans and a handful of T-shirts into it. I looked around the room, but there wasn’t a fucking thing I felt I needed. I grabbed only the bare necessities.
Passport.
Tossed it in, along with my driver’s license and a single credit card.
I grabbed my checkbook and ripped out two checks, then signed the remaining blank ones. I zipped the bag shut and slung it over a shoulder, scooped up the unpaid bills, and dumped them onto the kitchen table with the checkbook on top. As an afterthought, I grabbed a yellow sticky note and scrawled Mase a message.
Had to bolt. There’s money to cover expenses for a while.
I peeled off another square and stuck it below the first. Damn tiny things.
Contractors have deposits. Should be on autopilot with remodel schedule. Joe will take care of it all.
On a third note I wrote:
Bike in airport lot by elevators. Extra key in bottom desk drawer.
I cut the kitchen light, casting the room into darkness again. How I felt on the inside.
A mind-numbing twenty minutes later, I stepped onto Hannah’s front porch. I didn’t ring her bell or knock. She only ever came and went through her front door, so I shoved a corner of the recycled note into the rubber molding surrounding her door.