Chapter 38
THIRTY-EIGHT
Dad and Darren’s voices fade into background noise as we sit on the back deck at my parents' place, and I watch Hunter and Sophie happily kick a soccer ball around in the yard.
The ball bounces between them, all energy, noise, and light, and I let my eyes track it across the lawn as my mind slips further away with every pass.
To Thursday night.
To the way Alder aimed his gun at an RCMP officer with no hesitation or uncertainty, and pulled the trigger with an unshakable stillness.
To Henry’s body falling into the dirt, and Alder walking towards me in complete control of the entire situation… and me. He did what needed to be done, and he was a force to be reckoned with.
He was terrifying. And I never felt safer.
So much so that I slept in his arms that night, and it was the best sleep I’ve had in months.
I don’t know what that means. I just know it felt good.
I felt good.
Until I was late for office hours and walked in with Omar already watching me, like he expected me to screw up again and was just waiting for confirmation that I can’t hold it together.
“Cade?”
“Hm?” I blink and turn back toward the table where everyone’s looking at me expectantly.
Claire lifts the coffee pot. “More coffee?”
“Oh. Uh…” I glance down at my empty mug, wishing I could put something else in it. “Sure.”
She smiles and leans over to pour more into my mug. The steam curls up, twisting in the late morning sunshine, and I try to focus on that instead of Darren’s eyes watching me closely.
But I can’t.
“What?” I ask him, more sharply than I intended. Or maybe not… I am still pissed at him.
He sighs and looks away from me. “Nothing,” he mutters.
But I know it’s not. I know he’s hurt. And he should be. I’ve been acting like an asshole, pushing him away and snapping at him when all he’s trying to do is be a brother.
I know I’m doing damage. But I’m fucking drowning, and this is the only thing I know how to do. It’s just… safer. For all of us.
“So, lectures are finished for the semester,” Dad says, setting his mug down. “How’d it go?”
I shrug. “Fine, I guess. Same as usual.”
Even though it’s not. But I don’t tell them I’m one missed meeting away from a contract review, and probation could be in my near future.
I just take a long sip of my coffee and hope they drop it, and stop shining the light on everything I’m failing to hold together.
Because all my effort to keep myself stitched up is tearing everything else apart.
Everyone is silent for a moment, watching me like they’re waiting for me to share more.
About what? Do they really want to know how Connor asked a million questions about non-locality, or how, as a collective whole, this class couldn’t seem to grasp the difference between a probability wave and a physical particle, no matter how many times I broke it down?
“So what’s the plan for summer now?” Mom asks, stirring sugar into her coffee. “Any new students starting with you?”
I nod and let out a quiet breath as Hunter sends the ball flying past Sophie and throws both arms in the air like he just scored in the World Cup. “An undergrad’s starting her honours research with me.”
Which, of course, has to be Janine. The anxious overthinker who talks about quantum mechanics like it’s some divine calling. Why can’t she be obsessed with magnetic field interactions? Annika would be perfect for her.
“That’ll be a nice change, I’m sure,” Dad says. “You’ve only had graduate students for a while.”
I huff. “I can guarantee it won’t be.”
Silence falls over the table again, and I glance down at my coffee, wondering if I can take a walk to my car and slip some rum in it. Especially when I see everyone share a look like they’re daring someone to make the next move as they circle a bomb they don’t know how to defuse.
And I hate that part of me wishes they wouldn’t bother trying to include me in conversation.
I want to be here, and I want to connect with them, but it’s like something is blocking me.
It has been for a while. And now, the only way they know how to reach me—through my work—is slipping through my fingers. So I have nothing at all to give them…
“Well,” Darren shrugs, giving me a weak smile, “at least you have more research time in the summer. Where you at now?”
I can’t do this anymore.
“You know, you don’t have to do this,” I say, glancing around the table. “I’m fine just sitting here listening to you talk about hockey.” I gesture between Dad and Darren.
Dad exhales sharply and lowers his gaze to his plate, and Claire’s eyes flick to Darren. Then she quietly gets up from the table and heads down the steps into the backyard with the kids.
I watch her leave, and brace myself for what’s coming.
“Cade…” Dad starts.
But I lift my hand. “Let’s not.”
Mom leans back in her chair with a sigh, staring out over the yard. I watch the way she presses her lips together like she’s holding something back.
Anger or tears… I’m not sure.
Darren shakes his head. “Cade, enough.”
I turn to look at him, and he glares back at me.
“We’re trying to help you,” he says. “How many times do I need to say that? We’re trying. And you’re not.”
Heat rises in my chest as I stare back at him.
“I’m not trying?” I ask.
Darren shrugs and throws his hands up. “No. All you do is snap at us.”
The muscles in my jaw tighten, as I try not to snap again and prove his point.
Because all I fucking do is try.
I try to wake up and get out of bed every morning when everything in me says I can’t.
I try to teach students when my brain feels a thousand miles away, and my body doesn’t feel like it belongs to me.
I try to play the part of professor, brother, and son, and act like everything is fine when all I can think about is how that bottle of rum may help me feel something.
I try to act like the pressure to function doesn’t bury me alive every single day.
And they sit here and tell me they’re trying, while they poke every raw spot I’ve been working to cover up.
While they drag it all out in the open and call it care.
They think they want honesty… they think they’re ready for that.
But if they really saw what’s going on inside my head, they’d wish I never said a fucking thing.
But I can give them one thing they’ve been asking for.
I pull out my phone and scroll to Alder’s name. My thumb hesitates for a second before I tap out a message.
Fuck, I hope he knows how to check his texts.
SOS. 131 Blackwell Dr
Now I have to kill at least an hour and a half until he can get here from Fredericton.
“Cade, we’re trying to talk to you,” Dad says.
“I know,” I say, slipping my phone back in my pocket. “You’re trying. I’m not. I get it.”
Darren shakes his head and leans forward. “No, you don’t get it. Not at all.”
“What is it you want then, Darren?” I ask.
“An intervention?” I lean forward as well and look around at the faces of my family, as they all stare back at me with a mix of concern and disappointment.
“You want to talk about how I can’t get through my day without some rum in my coffee?
How I can’t feel a fucking thing unless it physically scars me?
Or how it feels like I’m just watching my own life happen from somewhere outside my body?
” I shift my eyes to meet Darren’s gaze.
“Or maybe you want to hear how every sound, voice, and question scrapes along the inside of my skull until all I can think about is how fast I can disappear. Into a bottle, silence, or someone who doesn’t ask me to explain why I’m like this. ”
Darren’s eyes fill with emotion, and I see them glisten before he blinks it away.
“Yes,” he says. “We do want to know that. Please, Cade.”
A low hum cuts in from the distance, quickly growing louder. My heart thumps and my lips twitch as I picture dark eyes and leather.
Of fucking course… he was already in Moncton.
“You want to know who I’m fucking?” I ask.
“Cade,” Mom snaps, turning her head to me.
All eyes shift to the driveway as a motorcycle rolls in and slows beside my car. Chrome catches the light, and the rumble dies as Alder kills the engine. The silence that follows is almost deafening, as everyone seems to hold their breath while he removes his helmet and swings a leg over the seat.
“Who’s that?” Sophie asks from the lawn, and Claire immediately places a hand on her and Hunter’s shoulders, pulling them behind her.
Dad and Darren both rise as Alder climbs the steps, unhurried and as confident as ever. His boots thumping on the wood steps are the only sound filling the space around us, and I can tell his eyes are on me even through his sunglasses.
I stay seated as I watch him approach, and with every footfall, something inside me shifts. The closer he gets, the harder my heart thumps, and the straighter I sit. And by the time he reaches me, I’m on my feet.
He stops in front of me, takes off his sunglasses, and looks into my eyes. “Hey, baby.”
A smirk pulls at the corner of my mouth as I stare into his dark eyes, and see the amusement hiding behind his intensity. He fucking knew what this moment needed, and walked straight into it like it was his stage.
Then he leans in and kisses me, wrapping an arm around my back and pulling me close as he takes what he wants, right in front of my family. And I give it right back.
When he pulls back, I shift my gaze to take in the shocked faces of my family. Mom has a hand pressed to her chest with wide eyes, Dad’s mouth is half-open, and Darren’s eyes bounce between me and Alder like he’s trying desperately to make sense of what he’s seeing.
“This is Alder,” I say, gesturing to him.
Darren’s eyes drop to the crest stitched into Alder’s cut, and his gaze lingers a second longer than necessary, taking in the Basin Kings Vice President patch. Then he looks into Alder’s eyes, and his posture stiffens as his gaze hardens.
And Alder just watches him thoughtfully.
Darren draws his shoulders back and lifts his chin. “What are you—”
“What’s your favourite tree?”
My eyes flick to Alder as I furrow my brow. He’s watching Darren with curious interest, like the answer to that matters more than anything else that could be said right now.
I look between them as they face each other, like two versions of something that should never be asked to co-exist. On one side is something rough and dark, clad in black, worn leather and covered in ink.
And on the other is something neat, clean, and put together, in athletic shorts and a perfect haircut.
They’re built from different materials… yet have the same goal.
Protection.
Darren’s brows draw together as he stares back at Alder. “What?”
“What’s your favourite tree?” Alder repeats, stepping closer as he tilts his head, assessing my older brother. He’s looking for something… and that makes me a bit nervous.
Because I know what this is.
It’s how Alder sees people. And whatever he’s about to find in Darren… I’m not sure I’m ready for it if he doesn’t like it.
Dad moves closer to Mom, standing between her and whatever this is turning into. But Darren holds his ground, and just stares back at Alder.
And just when I think he won’t answer, Darren speaks.
“Karri tree.”
Something in Alder shifts as his shoulders seem to relax, and his jaw softens. He continues to look at Darren for another moment before he nods softly, then turns to me.
“Want to get out of here, baby?”
I nod, and Alder holds out his hand. He waits for me to take it, then turns and leads me down the steps.
“Cade…” Mom’s voice sounds softly behind me.
But I don’t turn around.
Because I can’t. I can’t see the look on her face as I choose someone over her.
And I’m not. I send out a silent promise to her that I’m not. I just need this right now…
For me.
So I can show up again later.
Alder opens the saddlebag and pulls out my helmet. But he keeps his hand on it as I reach out to take it, as his eyes flick behind me to the deck.
“You sure?” he asks in a low voice.
All I can do is nod.
Alder lifts the helmet and places it on my head, and as he’s buckling the strap under my chin, I let my gaze land on my car.
“I’ll send some guys to get it,” he murmurs.
And immediately, I’m flooded with intense emotion.
My eyes sting, and I swallow hard, trying to keep it all down.
Because I don’t have to explain a thing. In this moment, right here, I’m understood. He gets it. And I’m safe.
Alder squeezes my hand before he sits on his bike and starts it up, and I slide on behind him. As I wrap my arms around his waist, I release a breath and steal a glance at my family.
Darren takes a step forward like he wants to stop me… but stays put. Dad rubs a hand over his mouth like he’s holding himself back, and Mom stands between them with her arms at her sides, helplessly watching us like she doesn’t understand how this happened.
And they all look sad, hurt, and confused.
Alder takes off down the driveway and onto the road, and I close my eyes, holding onto him tighter.
I’m sad too.
But this is the only way I know how to stay here at all.