Chasing Castles (Finding Focus #2) Read online

“No.”

  “Then who picked pink?” she asks again.

  “Cami.”

  Annie turns to look at me as she pauses cutting the cake. We stare back at each other as seconds pass, but inside those seconds are days and years, as memories register with us both. “Your mama used to make you pink cakes,” she says as realization hits and there might be a hint of sadness, or regret, like she should’ve remembered, but it’s not necessary.

  “Yeah,” I reply with a small smile. “She did.”

  “She made the best cakes,” my dad says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “Much better than me.”

  “Yours are great, Daddy,” I tell him, leaning into his hug. I’d hate for him to feel bad or think I don’t appreciate all he’s done for me. He’s always done the best he can to fill the gaps. I love my daddy for so many reasons, but one of the biggest is that he’s always kept her memory alive, never letting us forget how much she loved us or how amazing she was.

  “You’re just sayin’ that because you’re sweet.”

  “Nope, it’s the truth.”

  “And, you’re sweet,” he says quietly, kissing my temple. “Just like your mama.”

  After the cake comes Deacon’s favorite part: presents. But it’s not really mine. I love giving gifts, but getting them has always made me feel weird, like, what did I do to deserve them. Plus, even though I don’t have a lot, I don’t feel like I need anything. Just some paints and a canvas, wide open spaces, and room to roam free—those are things that make me happy.

  And Deacon Landry, but that’s my little secret.

  “Open this one first,” Annie says, passing a blue box with white ribbon my way.

  “It looks too fancy to open,” I tell her, admiring the wrapping.

  “Oh, shush. Open it.”

  Slipping the white ribbon off, I look up and feel the heat on my cheeks flare as everyone’s eyes are on me.

  This is why I hate gift giving.

  So much pressure.

  I smile awkwardly and continue opening the box, lifting the lid, and my eyes fill with tears when I realize what’s inside. It’s not something Annie and Sam spent their hard-earned money on, nor did Annie shop for hours looking for the perfect gift. No, it’s something that’s been mine all along. It’s just been waiting for me to be old enough to have it.

  My mother’s locket.

  She gave it to Annie when she was in the hospital. She made her promise to keep it for me. I’ve heard the story over and over. Every time Annie let me play in her jewelry when I was little, she’d tell it to me. And every time, I’d ask if I could keep it, and she’d tell me not until I was old enough.

  Apparently, sixteen is the magic age.

  I don’t think it’s normal to cry this much on your birthday. I’m not normally a sappy girl, but when I look up, everyone is blurry. It’s hard to see them past the tears. I try not to blink and will the tears to dry up and disappear, but one slips out.

  It’s in moments like this that I know my mama is here, and she’s with me, and she’s watching. It makes me feel good and like she’s not so far away. Running my fingers over the delicate chain and the locket, I remember. I can see her hold onto it when she would bend down to kiss me at night. She’s so clear in my mind, and it’s the best present anyone could’ve given me.

  “Thank you.”

  Annie smiles, and Sam wraps an arm around her shoulder. I can see she’s battling the tears too.

  Maybe turning sixteen isn’t so bad after all.

  Camille

  Present

  EVERY DAY OF MY LIFE has been better because of Deacon Landry, even the days when we weren’t together. Just knowing he was there, and that I could call him at any moment, gave me a sense of comfort that I think I’ve always taken for granted.

  As we follow behind the ambulance, my mind races with possible scenarios. I’m usually a positive person, thinking the best of situations, but I can’t get the picture of him lying lifeless on that gurney out of my head. I try to shake it and picture him the way he was this morning when he kissed me before rolling out of my bed to make our coffee.

  My throat hurts as I try to keep the sob that’s threatening its way up to stay down.

  “I need to call Annie.” The words come out of Sam’s mouth like a realization, and they sit in my stomach like weight.

  Oh, my God.

  Annie.

  I shake my head because I don’t know how she’s going to handle this.

  And Carter. Deacon is his world.

  And Micah.

  And Tucker.

  And my daddy.

  And Kay.

  Deacon is such a pivotal part of all of our lives. I just can’t imagine life without him. I refuse to imagine that life. I wipe the tears from my cheeks and suck up the emotion lodged in my throat.

  “I’ll call her,” I tell him, pulling my phone out of my pocket and hitting send once I’ve found her number.

  I glance over at Sam, and I see the worry in his eyes. I know what he’s thinking. I know that if he could, he would save Annie from this grief. He would save her from the worry. Because that’s the kind of man he is. It’s the kind of man he’s raised Micah and Deacon to be. But he can’t shield her from this. She’ll be pissed we haven’t called her until now.

  “Hey, muffins just came out of the oven,” Annie says, the same chipper tone from earlier still present. “Did you smell ’em all the way in town?”

  She doesn’t know.

  I’m surprised because news spreads like wildfire in this town.

  “Hey, uh,” I start, but I don’t know how to say it. I don’t know if I’ve ever had to tell someone bad news before. I look to Sam for guidance. He wipes a hand down his face and then back up into his hair, and I know I’m on my own. If he were the one holding the phone, he’d be lost for words too. “There was a fire at Pockets.”

  “Oh, my God.” I hear the gasp, and the instant worry and my stomach drops even further.

  As much as I love Deacon, Annie loves him more. She’s everyone’s caregiver, their number one fan. She’s been there for every moment of his life. I know this kind of love. It’s the kind I have for my son. The one I can hear in the background, asking his Nannie what’s wrong, and my heart breaks a little more.

  Camille

  Past

  THERE’S RARELY AN EVENT OR milestone that’s celebrated in these parts that doesn’t include a bonfire on the Landry’s property. Deacon’s send-off to college is no exception. It doesn’t matter that it’s hotter than forty hells here in August; if Deacon wants a bonfire, that’s what he’ll get.

  This summer has been equal parts amazing and awful for me as I’ve watched Deacon prepare to leave home. There were days when he was too busy to hang out because he was registering for classes, buying his books, or getting his dorm room ready. And, although he’s not playing football anymore, he’s still been going to the gym with his old teammates who will be trying out for Louisiana State University’s second-string team.

  Then there were days when he’d be home, and all he wanted to do was be with me, Tucker and Micah. The four of us would either fish at the pond all day or ride dirt bikes around the property before building a fire and staying up late, even if it meant we were getting eaten up by mosquitoes.

  All hail the Louisiana state bird.

  Those were my favorite moments. Especially the nights Tucker and Micah would either fall asleep in their lawn chairs or go to bed, leaving Deacon and me alone. We had some of the best talks during those summer nights, and I found myself falling deeper for him.

  We mostly talked about the future—Deacon’s plans for opening a restaurant with Micah and my dream of being an artist.

  “You don’t just become an artist, Cami. It’s something you’re born to do,” he told me one night a couple of weeks ago. His dark hair was wind-blown up and away from his face after a long day of boating with some of his buddies and his lightly sunburned cheeks only made his eyes that m
uch brighter as he looked at me. I hadn’t expected to hear from him at all that day and had just turned my bedroom light out for the night when I heard the familiar sound of rocks hitting my window. Occasionally, Deacon comes to my window at night. I guess I should be used to it by now, but every time he does, it fills me with an excitement that’s nearly impossible to contain. Somehow, I do, though, because the last thing Deacon Landry needs is another girl squealing over him.

  That night, we walked to the pond. When my feet became tangled in the tall grass, he quickly grabbed me by the waist to keep me from falling. There was no doubt in my mind that he could hear and feel my heart beating out of my chest as he held me to him for a second too long, but I didn’t care. I could’ve played it off as a reaction to my tripping, but something told me he knew the truth. It was in the way he kept his arm around me as we made our way to the dock and it was in the way he kept looking at me even when we weren’t talking.

  Something changed between us that night. I felt it, and I’m willing to bet Deacon felt it, too. Unfortunately, we haven’t been alone together since then. So, I don’t know if the change was fleeting or not.

  I’ll find out tonight.

  I’ve made it my mission to tell Deacon how I feel about him before he leaves. Since he’s leaving tomorrow, tonight is my last chance.

  No more sweet and quiet Cami Benoit. Tonight I’m gonna be confident and sexy and get my man. All I need are my cut-off shorts, a top that shows off my boobs, and some lip gloss. I also need some major liquid courage.

  Boone’s Farm Strawberry Hill, here I come.

  Two cups in and I’m already in need of something to eat. I wasn’t prepared for how sweet this crap is and I need some chips and dip to even out the taste in my mouth. Plus, my head is feeling a little funny. Outside of swiping a few sips of my daddy’s beers growing up, this is my first time drinking alcohol, and I’m praying I don’t get sick. That would ruin everything.

  The Landry’s don’t normally condone underage drinking, but they’re making an exception tonight with one condition: if you drink, you stay the night, unless you have a Landry-approved designated driver. No exceptions. With two cottages on the property, in addition to their humongous home, they have plenty of room. This pretty much ensures everyone here will be shit-faced within the next hour or so.

  Even though drinking is accepted and practically expected tonight, I don’t want to do it out in the open. There’s no telling what Deacon, Tucker, and Micah would say if they saw me with a drink, and it’d break my heart if Sam or Annie were disappointed in me for doing it. I don’t need a lot of alcohol, I’m sure, just enough to loosen me up before I talk to Deacon.

  I take one last swig of my wine before screwing the lid back on and hiding the bottle in the cabinet under the sink of the Landry’s guest bathroom. I check my reflection in the mirror and give my hair a little fluff before heading back outside.

  The party has picked up quite a bit since my bathroom booze visit, and it takes me a few minutes to find Stacey. Of course, she’s chatting with Tucker by the bonfire, which means I have to be careful not to act tipsy.

  I should’ve grabbed a mint from inside the house.

  “Hey, little sis,” Tucker greets me, slurring the s sound longer than necessary. He and Micah have obviously been pre-gaming. “Havin’ fun?”

  “Yeah, of course. Landry bonfires are always the best,” I tell him.

  “Y’all are so lucky to be neighbors with them,” Stacey says.

  I shrug but don’t disagree, because she’s right. I can’t imagine my life without any of the Landry’s and living so close to them only made my life better. Still, it always gets my hackles up when someone makes a comment like Stacey just did.

  The Landry’s have money. That’s no secret. My family, on the other hand, does not. My daddy inherited his piece of land from my grandparents; as well as the responsibility of running a sugar cane farm. It’s not easy. Daddy earns every penny he makes, and he only spends money on necessities and the rare splurge. There’s a big difference between our modest home and the mansion the Landry’s own.

  When I was little, kids would always ask if they could play at my house when, really, they just wanted to go to the plantation. Some kids even accused Tucker and me of being a charity case, but Deacon put a stop to that. I learned to ignore the whispers behind my back and be leary of anyone who wanted to come to my house and possibly use me to get to Deacon or Micah.

  I know Stacey didn’t mean what she said in the same way those kids did back then, so I decide to leave it alone and change the subject.

  “How many people are here do you think? The entire school?”

  Tucker answers, “Nah, it’s mostly seniors and juniors, but I see a few from your grade. You know everyone loves Deke and wants to party with him.”

  I do know that.

  It’s funny when I think about it because he’s only moving about thirty miles away. It’s not like he’s joining the military or going off to Harvard. Half the people here will be starting LSU with him in a few days, but there’s no way they’d miss this party.

  After discreetly scanning the area for Deacon, I finally find him across the yard playing a game of corn hole. It’s a game similar to horseshoes that only gets more fun as the participants have more to drink.

  “I’m gonna check out the game over there. Stacey, you comin’?”

  “Sure, I’ll go. See you later, Tucker,” she yells as we walk off. He gives her a sloppy salute and a wink before heading to a keg.

  Deacon is about to take his turn at the game but stops when he sees me. “There’s my good luck charm! Cami, come over here and give my bag a blow.”

  The crowd watching the game erupts in laughter while my face heats up, causing them to laugh even more. But his innuendo regarding the corn bag that is tossed in the game doesn’t offend me; it turns me on. I’d totally blow him if he asked me to. You know, if I knew what the hell I was doing and wasn’t a big chicken.

  “I ain’t blowin’ anything of yours, you big jerk,” I tell him, playing it off, as the people around us laugh louder. I walk up to him, and he smiles. “That’s my girl, always puttin’ me in my place.”

  My heart flips inside my chest at his words, but I just roll my eyes at him. “Just how much have you had to drink tonight? It’s still early, you know. It’d be a shame for the guest of honor to pass out before everyone else.”

  Deacon takes his turn and tosses the canvas bag onto the game board, earning three points for making it land directly in the hole and winning the game, only to be challenged to a rematch. Does the bastard have to be good at everything?

  “I’ve had a few beers, but I’m pacin’ myself,” he answers.

  “Oh, really? Why’s that?”

  “I made a bet with Micah and Tucker: the first one of us to puke has to run around the bonfire buck naked.”

  “Of course, you three would make a bet like that,” I laugh.

  “The thing is, though,” he continues, “those two idiots actually want to lose. I think they’re just lookin’ for an excuse to take their clothes off.”

  “You’re probably right. What a pair of dumbasses.”

  I get lost in Deacon’s face as he laughs. His eyes crinkle so much they’re almost hidden, making room for his wide grin. His Adam’s apple mesmerizes me as it moves in time with his chuckles. It should be a sin to be so beautiful.

  He eventually stops laughing and clears his throat. “You look really pretty tonight.” His voice is lower and softer than it was a few seconds ago, and I know his words are just for my ears.

  “Thank you,” I say, dipping my head so he doesn’t notice my blush. I want to tell him what I came here to say, but it’s too early in the evening, and neither one of us is buzzed enough yet. Instead, I kiss two of my fingertips and touch the top of his hand.

  “For luck,” I say, before leaving him and his game. I can feel his stare following me as I walk in search of Stacey, but I don’t le
t myself turn around.

  A couple of hours later and the atmosphere of the party has changed again. The crowd has dwindled down with only those that are drunk remaining. It’s not as loud as it was earlier, but there’s still the occasional sound of laughter ringing across the yard. Stacey’s brother picked her up a few minutes ago, so I’ve been wandering around, moving from group to group, socializing more than I normally do. Boone’s Farm will do that to you, I guess. I finished my first bottle about an hour ago, but there’s another one still in the bathroom in case I need it.

  I’ve seen Deacon from time to time being the usual life of the party. He seems to handle his liquor well, even though I know he’s pretty drunk right now. The opposite is true for our brothers, though.

  They decided to forget about the bet and go ahead and strip for everyone. Tucker claimed it was a “win-win” for everyone before he and Micah started strutting around the fire. They eventually realized they were putting their manhood at risk of being burned to a crisp and declared it was more important to protect their “goods” than to show them off. They’re now both passed out on the porch swings, wearing each other’s underwear because they were too drunk to tell which pair was which.

  A high-pitched giggle carries across the lawn, and when I see that it’s Lacy Monroe, the girl Deacon took to prom, my stomach twists.

  I’d heard that she’s been crushing on Deacon pretty hard all summer, but if they’ve been dating, I’ve seen no evidence of it. Of course, Deacon could be dating her and not telling me about it, but I’d like to think he wouldn’t keep something like that from me, even though it’d hurt like hell to hear it.

  I watch the two of them interact, and I don’t know how to feel.

  Deacon doesn’t seem to be very interested, but he’s not pushing her away either. She keeps touching him, and it’s making me want to claw her face off. Her hands are in his hair and on his chest, and I swear I’ll lose my shit if she touches his ass. His resolve is crumbling; I can see it. I have to act fast. I run into the house and straight for the guest bathroom. Thankfully, it’s empty, so I go inside and pull out my second bottle of Strawberry Hill. This time, before leaving, I don’t just fluff my hair. I also pinch my cheeks, lick my lips, and pull the neck of my shirt down a bit to reveal a little bit of cleavage.