CADE IS BROKEN.
I respect him for how long he tried to keep it together, but as he stares blankly back at me, I know that he’s far from being okay. He seems to be moments away from completely breaking down, or maybe he already has.
When I opened the door to find him on the other side, he had a look of pure agony in his eyes. His whole body had shook as he’d walked into the room after me. It only stopped shaking after I took his hand in mine and tried to give him a physical reminder that he isn’t alone.
“I can’t get it out of my head,” he admits hoarsely. He squeezes his eyes shut, like he’s trying to remove the memory of his mom from his mind. “All I can see when I close my eyes is…her. In a way that no child should have to remember their parent.”
I want to cry at the brutal honesty of his words. My mom had prepared me for her passing. I knew she was going to leave, and still I’d felt an unbearable pain. I can’t imagine losing someone so suddenly—and being the one to discover something so tragic.
“The only time I really ever slept was when I’d escape here to see you,” I confess. Even as a child, something about Cade’s presence made me feel safe. When he was next to me, the bad thoughts couldn’t follow me into my dreams. I could get some rest. But only when I was with him.
“Take the pain away,” he pleads, his voice breaking. There’s no more anger in his face, it’s all pain.
My heart breaks right along with him.
I can’t see him like this. I’d rather have the angry Cade than the broken one. I can take him being angry, but I can’t handle him being this devastated.
“I don’t know how.” My voice shakes.
My breath hitches when he reaches across the mattress and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “By just being you, Goldie. By just being here.”
His knuckles brush my cheek softly. My eyes flutter closed. Why does one little brush of his knuckles against my skin blow every other touch by a man out of the water?
“I’m here.”
He cups my cheek, his fingers splaying across my neck. His thumb rests against my racing pulse. I wonder if he feels it. If he’s aware of the effect he has on me even all these years later.
“For how long?”
His question makes my stomach sink. It’s vulnerable. Something I know he hates being.
I search his face for anger. But it doesn’t seem like he wants the question to come off like he’s upset. I think he genuinely wants to know how long I’ll be here.
“For however long it takes.”
“However long what takes?”
I place my palm against his heart. It’s been years since I’ve felt his bare skin against mine. His muscles are hard against my touch. “However long it takes for this to heal.”
He shakes his head, his hand coming to rest on top of mine. He applies pressure, pressing my hand deeper against his chest, right on top of his racing heart. “Oh Goldie, you’d be here forever. It was broken way before this happened. I don’t think it’ll ever heal.”
I hate that for the briefest of moments, I wonder if being back here forever would really be so bad.
Before I can get out a response, he grabs my hips and pulls my body flush against him. I breathe him in, my face pressed to his heart. His warmth envelops me immediately. My ear presses to his chest. I can hear his heartbeat. It thumps in a fast-paced rhythm that has me nuzzling deeper against his skin.
His fingers slip into my hair. He begins to run them through the long strands, his fingertips tenderly massaging my scalp. It’s what he used to do when I’d find myself in his bed. I’d tell him he doesn’t have to do it, but his breathing has become lighter. He doesn’t suck in air like he’s about to choke anymore. If giving his hands something to do takes his mind off his pain, I’ll lie here all night and let him do it.
The tension in the air between us changes. It gets thick and charged. When his fingertips brush over my neck, I try to hide the shiver that runs through my body.
It’s a completely inappropriate time for my body to feel so electrified from his touch.
But I can’t help it.
I’ve dreamed of feeling his touch again for years. Now that his scent surrounds me, his body engulfs me, and his touch destroys me, I’m lost in him all over again.
His fingers untangle from my hair, taking my breath away as his fingertips flutter over the back of my neck.
I hold still as Cade’s fingers travel down my back. They drift over the small amount of exposed skin between the waistband of my pajama pants and my shirt.
He watches me intently, his eyes full of heat. They’re still sad, but the sadness seems different. It isn’t pure agonizing pain staring back at me. It’s something more captivating.
He lets his fingers drift underneath my shirt. I sigh, reveling in feeling his skin against mine.
He pushes the fabric up, exposing my midriff.
His eyes rip from my gaze as he looks at the skin he just bared to him, longing in his eyes. “Goldie,” he breathes, his voice restrained.
His fingers slightly shake as he cautiously runs his hands up my sides. His fingertips push in slightly harder at my hips as he tries to bring us even closer together.
“God, I’m so fucked up.” His voice shakes as he runs his nose down my cheek. “Why can’t I think of anything other than you right now?”
I can’t give him a response. Something that feels so wrong shouldn’t feel so right. He’s right. He is fucked up. He’s clearly still dealing with the death of his mom. It isn’t a good idea for us to be doing this. But for the first time since he showed up at my door, I’m not afraid of him breaking down in front of me.
And Cade Jennings has always been my weakness. If making this mistake even helps ease the pain for him for a few moments, then I can’t help but give him that.
His hands squeeze the narrow of my hips. Leaning down, he buries his face in the crook of my neck, taking in a deep inhale.
I cradle his face to mine, loving the feel of his weight on me. “Let me take the pain away, Cade.” My tone comes out more begging than I’d meant it to.
My words make him pause. Pulling his head away, he stares down at me with an unreadable look in his eyes. Sighing, he turns my body and pulls my back to his front. I still fit against his body perfectly, a realization that causes a wash of pain.
We could’ve been so perfect.
“I wish it was that simple.”
I grab his hand and pull it over me so our intertwined hands rest against my middle. “Me too, Cade,” I answer sadly.
He presses the softest kiss right below my ear. “This right here.” He completely molds his body to mine. “This takes the pain away—at least for tonight.”
His thumb brushes over mine for a few minutes before it slows and stops all together. When his breathing evens out, I know that he’s finally fallen asleep.
I’d do anything to help heal his heart. Even if it means breaking mine again in the process.
