We've Met Before

29 - How Many

CADE

    Kaia stares out the window, a small smile on her pretty face. I remember the first time I met Kaia.
I must've been four or five at the time. We went to a small birthday party for this small little blonde girl I recognized but didn't know quite as well as I do now.
I almost half expected her to pass out from all the running she was doing around the living room, her small legs carrying her around the room like a rocket out of space.
She ran towards me and planted a kiss on my back, her lips leaving a sloppy saliva stain on my plaid collared shirt. I was so disgusted by the thought of a girl kissing me at the time that my first instinct was to tell my parents that the weird rocket girl had kissed me. Her mom overheard and immediately shouted at her, tearing her down in front of all the other five years olds.
She didn't say much for the rest of the party, and her legs didn't carry her anywhere, and her hair seemed more sandy than golden.
I continued seeing her at birthday parties for about a year until she stopped showing up for a while. Eventually she came back, except she wasn't rocket girl anymore, simply just the girl in the back of the room.
I don't admit it often, because I always liked upholding some sort of fucking reputation at school, but I didn't like being at those birthday parties either. I hated them with an ardent passion that I think only I understand.
But I went to them for her.
I used to beg my parents the day before to let me go just so I could sit like a fucking loser, peeking and waiting around until a mom dropped Kaia off at the party and my real fun could begin.
I didn't give a shit about the cake, or the candy, or the singing. I didn't even give a shit about the fucking bench. I could've been sitting in a landfill and I still would've thrown myself to my knees to see her.
Over the years she got quieter in crowds, but louder with me. She laughed. Oh God, she laughed.
She became impossibly prettier, and her hair become fuller, along with her curves and her lips. Her voice became raspier, and her style became softer, even if the torn converse on her feet said otherwise.
She became a living fantasy for me. My girl to cherish, and to talk to, and to look at.
She didn't know it, but she was mine.
I saw the way guys began looking at her as we grew up. The way their eyes lingered on her breasts, and the way they stared a little too long at her face.
It became harder to control myself around situations like that.
I could've fucking made her mine years ago.
But life became more complicated, and my dad became sicker, and football became more demanding.
Eventually her laugh died out a little, and her hair thinned out a bit, and her lips began to frown more, and I was too fucking busy to notice.
One of the things I regret the most to this fucking day is what I did at that beach. Not because I slept with Gabby, because frankly I didn't even remember it—but because Kaia needed me and I wasn't there. My life got busier, but her always had been.
I'll never leave her to fight by herself again.
I don't want to fend for her, just simply with her.
"What's got you so happy?" I ask, the sunlight from the window pouring onto my already tanned arms.
She turns to me, relaxing her smile a bit. "I just think that maybe I've found my mojo now."
"Mojo?"
She giggles. "I did something today that I didn't see myself ever doing. It just..." she pauses, thinking carefully about her next words. "It just makes me satisfied."
I want her satisfied, and trust me she would've been if she had let me done my thing on Friday.
"What did you do?" I press, wanting to know every single thought riveting inside her head. I was becoming a bit of a Kaia expert, but that didn't mean I was able to communicate telepathically or anything.
She frowns for a second, before straightening her lips. "I don't want to tell you."
I gasp in mock surprise. "What?!"
"What can I say, a girl has her secrets."
I roll my eyes, placing my hand on her thigh as I continue driving. I stroke my thumb back and forth across the supple skin of her leg, every nerve in my body aching me to keep going up. I don't.
I'm not about to crash.
"Good thing you're not just any girl then. You're my girl, and my girl isn't allowed to have secrets."
She scoffs. "Allowed?"
I nod. "Didn't you sleep with one of my best friends, and failed to tell me until I found out myself?"
I freeze.
"C'mon! I'll kill her with my own bare hands if that's what it takes to prove to you that it's value in my mind has the weight of a raisin."
She stays quiet, thinking for a few seconds. "I wouldn't be opposed to that idea."
"Have you talked to her?"
More silence from her. I rack my brain apart, knowing that even if I fucking hate the bitch, Gabby holds so much control over everything.
The only person who could truly get in her brain about that night, or the party, is Gabby. Gabby holds details, and specifics that none of us have.
She could make the tables turn at any second. If there's one thing I know about Gabby, it's that Gabby bides her time.
    "I haven't." She twirls a piece of blonde in her fingers. "I don't even know what I'd say to her."
"You don't have to say anything. I'll kill her and send her body for you in a cardboard box for disposal," I reply, staring off into the road.
She laughs, as if what I just said was a joke.
"Did you know that you're surprisingly really violent?"
I blink, my hands wrapping around the steering wheel tightly. I can't tell if she's saying it as a funny comment, or if it's a genuine observation, but she's not fucking wrong.
"Am I?" I muse.
"Yea." She goes quiet. "I envy you in a way."
I don't respond. She shouldn't envy me. I don't like being so angry all the time. I don't like having to be so crude to people, except her obviously.
    "It's so easy to make you react. It's like a flicker of light and you're on your flight or fight. Do you know how hard it is for me to do that? To act on things?"
    I know this about Kaia. I know about her inability to react, and this makes her vulnerable, it makes her a target. I've tried drilling in her brain that selfishness isn't a fault, but it's a virtue. While I hate myself for being selfish, it's the only thing I'll ever ask of her.
    I want her to be strong enough to beat a fucker's head in. I want her strong enough to scream at me when I fuck up. I want her to prove to herself and everyone around her that Kaia Turner doesn't take bullshit from anyone, and that playing with her a dangerous game.
    She's adapted to me a little, especially that day in her study. She's starting to take things on her own, with a regard for herself and only herself.
    Things are unpredictable.
    My dad used to have the same sentiments for my mom, and he formed her into a strong woman. She handles house finances, she manages her small trust fund left by her parents, and although she struggles to take care of herself sometimes, being weak is not something she'll ever be.
    The same way I'm here for Kaia whenever she falls, I'm there for any tumble my mom takes.
    "You're learning. Controlling and selfish Kaia is kinda hot, not going to lie. Turns me on a little." I peek towards her gauging her reaction to my deviant confession.
    Her cheeks tint red, her eyes looking everywhere but me.
    I love shy Kaia as well.
    I love Kaia.
——
     "Hello?"
    "Hello, Cade Steele?" It's an older man, maybe mid 50's or 60's. The way he says my name lightens my head, making me feel giddy for some weird reason.
    I place the phone on speaker, all the boys in the locker room cleaning off the sweat from today's practice.
They all fall silent, ears propped to the small speaker.
    "Yes, this is Cade," I answer, anticipation lining my voice as I try my best to keep my voice steady. Relaxed.
    "I'm from the University of Georgia, and I'd like to come down to Houston to watch you play for your spring season."
    No fucking way.
I think about Georgia, and how far away it is. I had been regurgitating to A&M for weeks, wondering what's the best possible decision. Georgia, although one of the best football programs, it's just too far.
    "Yea," I respond, my voice simmering down slightly from my realization, "That sounds great. I'd be honored."
    "Very well! I've spoken to your coaches, and the school. We've all agreed that I'll be there for a couple of practices and some scrimmages, but nothin' too extensive." He chuckles at the end, as if it's not big deal that one of the best programs in the country is watching me play in the next few weeks.
    The guys' eye light on fire. Coming to watch me also means shit tons of opportunities for them. The spotlight is shared among us, even if it's centered around me, and considering the fact I wasn't to keen anymore on Georgia, I knew they were.
    "Alright, sir. Please keep in touch with me!"
    "Will do, son. Goodbye!"
    The line hangs and the entire locker room goes ecstatic. Bodies begin jumping and tumbling off the walls, hoots and laughter sounding from the room. This happens every time, and I don't think I'll ever get used to it. It makes me feel like I'm doing some bullshit right.
    Dean clasps my shoulders, grinning from ear to ear. His newly twisted hair shakes as he talks vigorously. "Georgia recruit boys?"
    The locker room responds with more shouts.
    "Who's our QB?" Dean shouts, along with a hyperactive Luke on his side.
    "Cade Steele!" They all shout, loud and clear as headlights.
    "Who's our QB?" Luke screams, thumping his chest with a closed fist.
    "Cade Steele!"
    Luke and Dean both together join again. "I can't fucking hear you. Who's our fucking QB?!"
    "CADE STEELE!"
    I laugh, barely able to see anything from how squinted my eyes have become. Every response roses through my body as an invigorating toxin.
    This is why I like football.
    I selfishly like the fact there's some sort of dependence on me in the team. It's not an unhealthy one, but a dependency nonetheless.
    A dependency I don't fail at.
    I do my job in practice, and on the field, and I succeeded.
    That's how the story goes.
    Every game depends on me.
    Cade Steele doesn't lose.
——
    I drop my gym bag on the kitchen counter, walking around the inhabited living room. My mom's pale blonde hair sits perched on the backboard of the couch, idley sitting near the idle woman.
    I walk up behind her, placing my hands on her shoulders gently so not to scare her.
    "Have you had dinner yet?"
    She swivels back, looking at me with teary eyes and blurry vision. I immediately tread towards the front of the couch, sitting beside her as she lowers her head.
    "Mom, what's wrong? Where's dad?"
    Kaia must be upstairs doing homework, or reading, or watering the plants she's managed to sneak inside my room which she thinks I don't notice by now.
    It starts to become obvious when you see patches of soil on your closet floor.
    She shakes her head, holding a closed hand to her mouth as she denies her statement before it's even able to slip out of her mouth. "He had a problem with his pacemaker. Everything was going fine but his body is beginning to reject it, and without the pacemaker he can't be home. Oh, God. Cade he can't be come."
    I wish I could deny it too.
    I launch my arms across my frail mom, feeling her tears stain the already damp shirt I'm wearing. I can feel the edges of her spine as I wrap my arms around her back. The bones prick and slice at my hands like blades sharpened especially for me.
    "Did you take him to the hospital by yourself?" Is all my body can muster to ask. It's useless to ask if he's okay, or if he's going to be okay.
    We've both seemed to know the answer to those for long enough.
    "Yes," she tells me, admitting what I know will itch at skin for days, and weeks, and months on end.
    "Why didn't you call me, mom? I would've come early from practice to help you get him there? Did he say anything before leaving?"
    He body racks with more sobs. I can feel myself deflate with every single damned noise. The world spins around me and that same familiar antiseptic smell wafts inside my nose. The rooms becomes whiter, and colder.
    "I didn't want to worry you, dear," her accent says. It's still visible, even when it's clouded by her tears. Southern charm ever rusts, I guess. "He told me to tell you to choose Georgia, and to worry about your old man."
    "You know about Georgia?"
    She laughs for a split second, her eyes wrinkling even more than they're starting too already. She's not even that old, she's just aged so much in the last decade. "Your dad and I always know about every thing, Cade."
"I don't know.... But I do know that I don't want to see you crying alone." She calms down, only small whistles leaving her as she leans against me.
"I don't think I'd be able to make it if he died, Cade," she confesses.
I rub her back, cutting myself with every stroke. I whisper to myself, and only to myself. "I don't think I'll be able to either."
What feels like an eternity passes by, and my mother falls asleep— probably with an empty stomach. I dowse my hands under her knees, and along her upper back, lifting her up and heading down the hall to the master bedroom.
I lay her down on the bed, brushing her hair back and lifting the covers.
I walk out and shut the door. My back aches and my hands are losing feeling. There's a pressure on my chest, and my legs are dragging along the floor and my hands extend towards the stairwell. My feet thump lightly against the floorboards with every step.
I'm going to fall down the fucking stairs if I don't make it to the top in the next three minutes.
I claw at the bannister, using every ounce of worn out strength to make it to the top. My breath is short, and my head is cloudy.
I open the door to my room, finding Kaia in glasses and blue silk pajama shorts.
If I didn't already feel like having a fucking heart attack.
She jots down something on a sticky note and places it inside her book before turning her big hazel eyes to me.
She immediately stands up and ropes over to me, placing an arm under my shoulder, dragging me to the bed.
Do I look that fucked?
"Breathe, Cade."
I exhale, and inhale with her hand motions.
"Count down with me, alright?" My ears have tunnel vision, and she's the only thing I can see right now.
"1..."
Her eyes look so pretty right now.
"2..."
Would she move with me if I ever did leave?
"3..."
I want to marry her.
We exhale one last time and she holds the side of my neck with her hand, stroking her thumb against my skin. I feel electrified.
I lean into her hand, bringing my other hand to her hip and sitting her flat against my lap.
"God, I love you."
She smiles shyly, feeling my chest for a heart beat.
I have too many heart beats, and too many heart beats for her. It only ever beats for her.
"I love you more."
I roll my eyes and pick her up. She giggles furiously and my eyes wrinkle at the fact that she's giggling because of me. I drop her on the bed, tickling the sides of her ribs as she squirms beneath me in a fit of laughter.
"Cade!... Cade, I can't... breathe!" The singsong of her voice makes me continue, just wanting to her the damn noise over and over and over again.
I take a look at her gorgeous face until I realize there's tears in the corners of her eyes, and her face is no longer smiling. She's crying.
A whimper leaves her lips as she tries to hold herself back from crying, but I shake my head.
"What's wrong?"
She wipes her eyes with her knuckles, covering her face with her palms. I immediately take her wrists and place each one beside her head, staring down at her underneath me.
She doesn't resist, or try to hide away again, and I'm satisfied.
"I just," she begins, but doesn't finish.
"You just what? Kaia, what's wrong, sunshine?" I slip my right hand on her waist, smothering the feeling of the curve of it.
She releases her other hand and places both hands on my jaw. "You make me feel so loved."
It's a bittersweet moment.
She should've always felt loved. She should've always felt like somebody was there for her. She should've always felt safe. She should've always been with me.
"You are so loved. Wish you could see how you bright you are, Sunshine."
Her tears continue flowing, her body breaking down and relaxing deeper into the mattress. She melts and sinks in, and I have no other choice but to follow.
I'll follow my woman anywhere.
I dip my head towards her lips and drag my lips against hers before connecting them. We're slow. Meaningful. Precise.
I amble my loose hand to her hip, holding her in place gently as our lips mold together. Her lips taste like cherry, like always, and there's a tinge of salt roaming somewhere along them.
I separate our lips.
I lift my lips to her forehead, and whisper. "I love you."
I continue down to her right cheek, and left cheek, whispering "I love you," two more times. Her skin feels warm and my head feels fuzzy and I feel like Heaven.
I dip down to her collarbone, grazing my teeth against the softness of her. "I love you."
I find the left of her chest, the space right above her breasts. I rest my lips along it, feeling the gentle pounding of her heartbeat. "I love you."
I continue down her stomach, lifting her shirt slightly. Her stomach tenses with every simmering "I love you," trailing down her abdomen. She gasps everything so slightly and the sound has me on my knees.
I reach her things and I alternate between each one, layering "I love you," after "I love you."
I roam back up her body, seeing the red and flushed mess beneath me. Her lips are plump and heavy as I lay one final kiss.
"I love you, Kaia Turner, and I'll never be able to love anyone else."