Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I’m just heading out the door when I smack right into Kade’s big body. My eyes widen when his strong hands land on my shoulders to steady me. He’s at my house.
He looks good—but Kade always looks good. Tonight, he’s wearing a tight pair of jeans and a red fire department hoodie. He’s wearing a black baseball cap over his head and has pulled the brim down low so I can barely see his eyes.
He looks nervous. Is he here to tell me we can’t keep hanging out?
Of course I’d be disappointed by that, but maybe a little relieved too?
Well, not really relieved, but I know I should be.
We’re crossing a pretty serious boundary, and while it likely doesn’t mean anything to him—my own thoughts all week have been running rampant.
Thinking about what it would be like to kiss Kade. To do a hell of a lot more than kiss him. I’ve had to jerk off every day in the shower before work and every night before going to sleep, just to take the edge off. And it’s barely working.
So him being here at my door, all tall and sexy with his stupid baseball cap that makes him look way too much like he did in high school—basically a wet dream come to life right out of my adolescence—yeah... it’ll be better for me if he’s here to blow me off.
He drops his hands from my shoulders and then sticks them both into his jean pockets, looking a little dazed and lost as his big blue eyes meet mine.
“Hey, I hope this is okay. I drove by the bar, and it looked packed.” His hands remain in his pockets, and he looks like he wants to be anywhere but here, shifting nervously on his feet.
“I didn’t really feel like dealing with all that. ”
Oh. My. God . He’s here at my house because he doesn’t want to meet at the bar but still wants to hang out.
Holy. Shit. New fantasy level unlocked.
I’m frozen stupid, unmoving and unspeaking, but I must do it for way too long because he removes his hands from his pocket to lift one to the back of his neck. The hoodie is too baggy for me to drool over that strong bicep flexing like I know it is right now.
“Or... we can totally go to the bar.”
“No,” I practically shout and then shrink back, mentally kicking myself and probably turning bright red. I try to play it off, but Kade is grinning at me knowingly. “We can hang out here. No problem.”
I step back enough to open the door for him to come inside my house, and I don’t know if I feel relief or sheer panic when he follows.
The door clicks closed behind him, and I wish I thought this was a mistake—maybe way, way, way far in the back of my mind, I know it is—but I can’t seem to bring myself to care.
“Beer?” I ask, strolling toward the kitchen.
Kade nods, still standing near the front door, his eyes sweeping around the open concept of my home. “Yeah, thanks.”
“You can take a seat.” I gesture toward the couch as I go over to the fridge and grab two beers for us, twisting the caps off and tossing them into the trash before making my way to the couch just as he does.
I hand him one, and he takes it and immediately brings it to his lips. I swallow hard, my eyes fixed on the way his lips wrap around the bottle. This is probably not a good idea.
I force my knees to bend and sit down on the far end of the couch. “So the bar was packed, huh?” I’m an educated man. I swear it. I spend my day molding young minds and educating—but when I’m around him, I swear I sound like an idiot.
He smiles softly, nodding his head. “It was. I’m not big on crowds.” He takes another drink, and it takes everything in me to rip my eyes away from the way his throat works as he swallows.
“Yeah. I’m not really either. Never have been.
” It’s still hard for me to think about how in high school I thought he was Mr. Social , but maybe my brain was just playing tricks on me.
When I really, really think about it, he did seem kind of uncomfortable.
He was polite and friendly, but now that I really think about it, I can remember him shifting awkwardly when all attention was on him—which was often.
“Do you ever see them there?” I look across the sofa to his face and see the worry there, and I know what he’s talking about.
“The guys who bullied me in high school?”
He’s picking at the label on the beer bottle, looking at it instead of me now. “Yeah.”
I shrug, not really wanting to think about those days at all. “Sometimes.” I hope my voice sounds more casual out loud than it does in my head. “It’s a small town, and not many people actually moved away. The ones who did live within an hour of here.”
I’m sure he already knew that, but he still looks stricken with sadness. “Do they...” He shakes his head and clears his throat. I let him finish, though, because I’m not sure what he’s trying to ask. “Do they still bother you?”
Ah. He’s worried that I have current bullies.
I smile at him, hoping to relieve him of that particular worry.
“Nah, the ones I do see are married with kids. They’ve grown up over the years.
Matured.” It pains me to say that, but it’s the truth.
I’m not sure if they even recognized me at first when I came back to town—but when they did, they were fine.
The thing that pisses me off the most is it defined so much of my life. And whether I want to admit it or not, it did. It shaped me. And they go on about their life like nothing happened.
“Shitheads.”
I let out a surprised laugh at that but don’t argue. “They are, but it doesn’t matter. It was high school. Almost a decade ago.”
“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt.” He’s being awfully serious, and it makes me squirm in my seat.
“I’m fine.” I go to my old defense. Protecting myself from those memories is the only thing that had me coming back here. That keeps me here. I can’t think about the hell I went through as I walked through the halls of the school.
Kade puts his beer down on the side table and then shocks me stupid when he scoots over until our thighs are almost touching. I stupidly breathe him in, taking in that intoxicating scent that makes me weak and look into his beautiful eyes. “It’s okay to not be okay. You know that, right?”
“Really? You’re a fireman, not a therapist, Kade.” I instantly feel bad for snapping at him, even if I kept my voice relatively tame, but he doesn’t blink.
“I am, but I’ve seen pain and suffering. I know it still hurts, and you don’t have to pretend with me.”
Goddamn him. “Why do you need to talk about this? We’re just having beers and relaxing, and you’re like... hey, let’s bring up some trauma.” I eye him, not letting him look away and not pulling my gaze off him. I want to know.
“Because I should have seen it then, and I didn’t. And because I want to be friends, and I don’t know if we can be with this shit just hanging there between us.”
I think my jaw may actually touch the floor.
I thought we’d closed on this. I realized I was wrong about him, and we’ve talked about some really serious subjects.
.. I didn’t think this would ever come back up, and it’s putting me on edge.
“It wasn’t your fault, Kade. I wasn’t your responsibility, and it was wrong to expect you to be a white knight. ”
I get nervous when he’s quiet for far too long. “Did you think I would be though?”
“What?” I look at him, my eyes widening. “No,” I say quickly because okay, that’s really embarrassing. I put my beer down on the table and start to get off the couch—I need to put some space between our bodies. But before I can, his hand reaches out and wraps around my bicep, holding me there.
“Did you?”
“Kade...” I say his name quietly, not sure how we got here. This was just supposed to be some innocent fun. Just hanging out with my high school crush. Maybe letting it fuel some fantasies I knew would never come true but felt harmless.
But with his strong hand clinging to my arm, his skin brushing over the bare skin under the sleeve of my t-shirt—it’s too much. The spark is undeniable, and it’s not fair that it’s one-sided. It’s not fair of him to look at me this way—with so much intensity, I feel like I could burst into flames.
“Tell me.” I’m trapped in the trance of his eyes—those beautiful eyes I’d convince myself truly saw me—that could feel my suffering.
But the truth is he didn’t. He had no idea how badly I was hurting, and even if he swears he remembers me, that doesn’t mean I meant anything to him. I can’t fall into this.
I can’t now believe the things I wanted to then—that he would somehow see me. That he would be the one to stand up and say something. It wasn’t his job to do that. “Don’t do this,” I say weakly.
“Tell me,” he repeats.
I want to pull away from him—I know he’d let me if I made any move to do so—but I can’t seem to do it.
“I thought I saw something in you. I spent a lot of time thinking...” I swallow hard and notice his eyes move to my throat briefly before moving back to my eyes.
“I thought maybe you saw me. Saw what they were doing and you’d say something. ”
He looks full of regret, and that’s not what I want, so before he can say anything else, I quickly add, “But it wasn’t your job to do that.
It wasn’t up to you, Kade. I was just as capable of saying something, and I didn’t.
I let fear cripple me. I tried to just blend into the walls and pray they’d find something else to occupy them. ”
“That didn’t work though,” he states. No question.
I shake my head. “But it’s still not on you.”