Chapter 95 Chapter 95

Chapter 95 Chapter 95
Caden

Shuffling into the kitchen, I head toward the sink. I down a glass of water and a couple of Advil and pray they get to work quick. I feel like absolute hell, although I’ve got a sinking suspicion that only part of that is from the hangover. The part that’s not? Well, that’ll be a fuck of a lot harder to fix than just some water and a few pain pills.
I lean against the kitchen counter, taking in the array of empty bottles, Solo cups, and other detritus left over from the rager last night.
What the fuck do I do now?

Where do I go from here?
I’m not with Kimberley Smith. About the furthest thing from it, in fact. But somehow, dancing with that other chick felt like a betrayal of Kimberley, and the second I brought that girl back to my room, I hated myself for even touching her. My body felt physically repulsed by the idea of fucking her, or even kissing her. I couldn’t do it.

Kimberley’s wrecked me.
And I know I’ve wrecked her too.
God, this is so fucked up.

I need to talk to someone who won’t tell me lies. Someone I can trust. I just wish I knew who that was anymore.

A sudden thought strikes me, and I push away from the counter, ignoring the fact that my head still throbs like a son of a bitch. I shower and throw on a t-shirt and a pair of dark-wash jeans, then head outside and slide into my car. I send a quick text before pulling out of the driveway and heading toward San Diego.

My headache slowly starts to clear as I drive, and I feel a little more human by the time I pull up outside Dad’s condo building. I haven’t seen him in months, and unlike Mom, he didn’t invite me over for Christmas at all.

That hasn’t really been his style, ever since the divorce. I don’t think he and Mom talk at all, and it’s always sort of felt like I got lumped into that same boat. When he walked away from her, he walked away from me too. And he’s never looked back.
He texted me back while I was on the way over though, so I know he’s home.

I haven’t gone out of my way to see him since he and Mom split, mainly because he’s made it pretty clear he’s not interested in keeping up ties with his family, and it’s not in my nature to beg.
But with shit so fucked up in my life right now, I need someone to talk to.

Dad’s living the total bachelor life, in a fancy-ass condo with an ocean view. I’m greeted by a doorman, and then I take the elevator up to the top floor.

As the doors open with a ding and I step out, I almost bump into a woman stepping in.
“Oops! Excuse me!”

She gives a little laugh, hiking her purse up higher on her shoulder. She’s dressed in a slinky dress and heels, and her hair is a little disheveled, her makeup probably leftover from yesterday.

She’s young, maybe mid-twenties, and when she glances up at my face, she does a sort of double-take. I step aside to let her into the elevator, and she blinks at me for a moment before shaking her head and slipping inside.

The doors close behind her, and I glance down the hall.
Huh. There are only two condo units on this floor.
That gives pretty good odds that this chick just came from Dad’s place. That would explain the weird look she gave me, considering he and I look a lot alike. Same dark brown hair and blue eyes, same build. He’s got some silver in his hair now, but it obviously hasn’t made him less appealing to the ladies.

I shoot one look back toward the elevator before heading toward Dad’s door. He opens it as soon as I knock, and a strange feeling tightens my chest when I see him.
Fuck, we really do look alike.

Staring at him sometimes seems like staring at a vision of my future, and though there was a time when I would’ve thought this was the ideal life—kickass condo, a new chick every night, no responsibilities—now it just seems hollow.

“Caden.” He beams at me as if it hasn’t been weeks since we’ve spoken. “What brings you here?”

“I just wanted to say hi,” I answer vaguely. “You know, with the holidays and all. Wanted to see you.”

“Sure, sure. Come on in.” He gestures me inside.
The place is nicely decorated, in a minimalist sort of way.

I haven’t been here often at all, and I can tell that both of us feel it. We’re both uncomfortable, and I suddenly wish I hadn’t come at all.

“So, what can I do for you?” Dad asks, leading me into the living room and gesturing for me to sit on the sofa.

I sink down onto the expensive-looking piece of furniture, my sluggish mind grinding away as I try to figure out how the hell to answer that.

“Dad, do you—” I scrub both hands down my face.

He’s obviously not really in the mood for a big father and son heart-to-heart, and honestly, neither am I. But I need to know. “Do you have any idea who it was that told you about mom and Paul Smith?”

His expression freezes. He sits in a chair near the couch, leaning back in it and crossing one ankle over his knee. “No. I don’t.”

“You don’t have any suspicions?”

“No.” His brows pull together, and he looks annoyed. “All I know is I got an unsigned note telling me what’d happened. And when I confronted your mother about it, she confessed everything.”
“Did you ever try to find out?”

His jaw clenches. “No, Caden. I didn’t. Once your mom admitted what she’d done, I had more pressing things to deal with.” Then he snorts, and a sardonic smile passes over his face. “Although if you ever find out, be sure to let me know. They saved me from wasting any more years on your whore of a mother.”

Anger bursts through me like an explosion of fireworks, and I grit my teeth. Before she cheated on him, before he found out about it, there was a time when he looked at her like the sun rose and set because of her.

Now he spoke so poorly of her.