Chapter 14
Sadie
I twist my wedding ring as I stand in the threshold of the bathroom, my throat constricting to the point I feel like my oxygen is getting cut off.
I wanted him. I wanted him to touch me. What is wrong with me?
Cade stands at the bathroom sink, working his broad shoulders into the clean T-shirt I found for him, already having made it into a pair of jeans without me. His hair is still wet, dripping lines of well-water down his neck as he rests his hip against the counter for support.
“I could leave tonight,” he mumbles under his breath.
“You won’t get far,” I deadpan, gesturing to the socks that dropped to the floor. “A burst of energy from a shower isn’t a magic cure.”
“Right, so back to the shitty barn dungeon.”
“I wish I had something better for you.”
He pauses, staring down into the sink. “I know I can get out if I need to, so it’s better than locking me in a room.”
Neither of us looks at the other. It’s like if we keep our gazes fixed anywhere but direct, we can pretend the last twenty minutes didn’t happen. I run my hand over my face, and then let out a ragged breath.
“I should probably move the clothes to the dryer.”
He nods, and his lips part, but before a sound comes out, we both freeze.
What… what is that?
I recognize the soft roll of gravel, and Cade’s head whips around to me, his gaze finally meeting mine.
“I thought you said he wouldn’t be back until this evening?”
I’m too busy listening to answer him.
The tires hit the rock driveway in a way that tells me it’s not a neighbor, and not some delivery man. I hear the familiar hum of an engine, too big to be a car.
Fuck. Is he here early? He should be on shift.
Every muscle in me locks down. My eyes go wide. Cade scrutinizes every fucking inch of my face, reading it.
“Go,” he barks at me. “Go see who the fuck is here.”
“You have to hide,” I hiss at him, my voice sharp.
He mutters something under his breath in response, but I’m already moving toward the front window in the living room, desperate to see who’s paying my house a visit. I swipe the curtains to the side.
Nate is here. I stare at his cruiser parked out front. Why? Why would he be here at an off hour? Did something happen to Clayton? Is Clayton with him?
I swallow hard. That would be too big a stroke of luck.
And I don’t want anything to happen to Clayton. I really don’t. He’s my husband. I’ve been with him since I was twenty-one. Eleven years. You don’t throw that away.
It’s just Cade’s stupid question getting to me.
I pull my hair tie off my wrist, throw my hair up into a bun, and smooth out the dry T-shirt and fresh jeans I put on after the shower incident.
The mudroom door slams.
It’s too late to meet him outside.
“Sadie,” Nate calls out. “You in here? I didn’t see you outside.”
I rush to the kitchen, praying to God there’s no signs of Cade anywhere. I lean against the threshold leading to the hallway as soon as Nate enters the kitchen. His dark brows knit together the moment he sees me.
“Fuck, Sadie,” Nate winces as his eyes land on the battered spot on my face. “That looks bad.”
“It is what it is.” I hold his gaze. “What do you need? Did Clayton send you to check on me?”
Nate frowns, and then rakes his fingers through his hair, eyeing me nervously. “Actually… No. He doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Okay…” My voice trails off, unable to read the deputy’s demeanor. I’ve never seen him act like this. Maybe Clayton put him up to it. Maybe this is a test.
“What happened… to your face… and what he said to you…” He struggles to get it out. “It made me think…”
“Think that my husband has a drinking problem?”
“No, I think that’s already pretty damn clear,” he scoffs, shaking his head, and the movement must give him a burst of courage, because his eyes jump up to meet mine. “Sadie, is he hurting you?”
My throat constricts. “He was drunk.”
“Sadie,” Nate’s warm eyes meet mine, though his tone is a warning. “If he’s hurting you, tell me and I can do something about it.”
“Like what?” I let out a dry laugh. “I’m still on probation.”
“For another year,” he shoots back. “That’s it. Then you can put all this in the past and move on.”
I shake my head, catching sight of those little marks on the doorframe. I can’t bring myself to tell him I’ll never put it all past me and move on. He doesn’t know how it feels to lose your whole world when you were trying to save it.
“Just tell me, and I’ll do something about it, Sadie.”
I purse my lips, my mind running back to Cade in my bathroom. The last thing I need is a bunch of law enforcement poking around while he’s still here.
And what happens when Clayton posts bail?
My stomach flips. “It’s fine,” I force the words out. “I appreciate it though.”
“There’s a bunch of feds poking around here,” Nate continues. “If something like the sheriff—”
“I’m fine,” I reiterate, plastering a smile on my face. “He was drunk.”
Nate sighs, his eyes darting around the room, as if he’s looking for something. “Call me if you need something.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls a card out for his carpentry side business. “That’s my cell.”
“Thank you.” I ease toward him and take it from him, staring at the number and feeling my face heat up. I couldn’t use this even if I wanted to. But I don’t tell him that.
His radio goes off then, and he gives me a tip of his hat. “Have a nice afternoon, Sadie. And really,” he pauses as he pulls the door open, “Call me if you need something.”
“I will,” I lie.
He closes the door and disappears, heading back to his cruiser.
I stand stark still, his card still in my hand as I stare at the door, my vision going blurry. My head feels light, and I could pass out right there.
‘Clayton would never,’ I hear my mother’s voice in my head. ‘Look at all the good he’s done to that ranch you inherited from Dad.’
My lower lip trembles, thinking back to losing the one person who believed me—the person who gave me this hellhole in his death, but while alive, begged me to go.
‘He’s not a good guy, Sadie Girl,’ my father’s voice resounds in my head. ‘I can see beneath the mask. You and Lila need to get out of there.’
“Well, I tried, Dad,” I whisper to myself, the tears welling up and spilling down my cheeks. “And I lost the only thing worth getting out for.”
“And what was that?” a voice interrupts, and I spin around to see Cade standing a few feet behind me. “What did you lose?”
I bat the tears away quickly and then gesture to the doorframe he’s leaning against. He furrows his brow, and then shifts his leg, wincing. Cade scrutinizes the frame, and then runs his finger over the indents, stopping at the most recent.
Five years old.
His eyes flick back to mine. “Your kid?”
I swallow the knot in my throat. “You need to get back out to the barn.”
Cade’s eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t say anything more or press.
I lead him out the back door, the sweat already starting to bead on my neck again. We’re running out of time before Clayton will be here. The sun hangs low in the sky, and the color of it is the same as the inside of a bruised peach.
Cade steps into it like he’s used to being seen, or hunted, or both. The shirt I gave him is a little too tight at the shoulders, but his leg is no longer pressing tightly against the denim. There’s slack.
And that means it’s receding.
He’s getting better. That’s good. Except it doesn’t feel good.
“It’s hot as shit out here,” Cade mutters, as he takes the steps slowly.
I slip past him, and cross the yard in front of him, hoping my body can block the sightlines from the road, even though there’s no one there to see. The air’s still thick with the leftover heat of the day, and every breath seems to coat my lungs with dust.
I hear Cade behind me, his steps uneven. At the slope, he hesitates, just a second, then starts down, putting all the weight on his left foot and bracing the rest with the wall of his body.
Halfway down the hill, he falters.
I double back, grab his left forearm, and wedge my shoulder under his. His weight hits me like a dropped sack of feed, but I’ve carried worse. He lets out a heavy sigh but doesn’t say anything.
We walk the rest of the way together, slipping through the opening into the dark. Inside, the air is cooler but still suffocating. I steer Cade to an old horse stall at the back, instead right inside the door.
“I’ll be back with something to eat—”
“I don’t need you to do that.” His eyes jump to mine, as he drops down on a flipped five-gallon bucket. “You don’t have to play Betty Crocker for me like you do him.”
I almost laugh, though it’d be devoid of any humor at all. “Well, you have to eat something, so…”
He nods. “So bring me a fucking protein bar and some water. Hell, just hook up the water hose and slip it through there.” He points to a hole. “That’d be fine, too.”
For a second, I actually consider it, and then shake my head. “I can’t. It’d be too noticeable.”
“Okay, fine.” As the words leave his lips, one of my horses hollers from the gate.
It’s chore time, which means Clayton will be here soon.
“I need to go. I’ll bring you something back before I finish chores.”
“Are those yours?”
“The horses?” I assume. “They were my father’s, and then mine. He passed away three years ago. I was his only kid, so I got the ranch. I have a couple of half siblings though.”
“I have a sister,” Cade rests his head back against the wood. “I think she was fine if I died, even if she pretended like she wasn’t.”
I blow out a breath, lingering in the opening of the stall. “Why do you think she was just pretending?”
“Because when you strangle someone, they don’t usually give a shit what happens to you afterward.”
I blink twice, trying to process what the hell just came out of his mouth. “You… You strangled… your sister?”
He shrugs, as if it’s nothing. “Yeah, during one of my episodes as someone once called them.”
“That’s… Um…”
“A lot,” he scoffs. “I know.”
Silence settles between us, as he stares up at the ceiling and I stare at him, taking in the rough hair covering his jaw and the steep descent of his nose. My mind flicks back to the picture of the younger Cade—the one who enlisted in the Marines.
And I see that kid in the man sitting on the bucket, admitting to something horrific, making it hard to not reach out and hug him.
Which I absolutely will not do.
I clear my throat. “You’ll need to keep pressure off the leg. Don’t get up unless you have to. And it needs to be elevated.”
He doesn’t look at me, but the corner of his mouth twitches. “I’m not going anywhere, Sadie. Don’t you worry.”
“Great.” I turn and walk back to the door, boots crunching the hard-packed dirt.
“Why didn’t you tell that cop you ain’t got a phone?”
I stop at the threshold, hand on the edge, and look back. “I don’t know.”
“Hmm.”
Before I can say anything more, he closes his eyes. Something about him goes blank, like he’s lost in whatever dark is waiting for him behind his eyes.
I step outside, the sun cutting a stripe across my boots, and slide the door shut behind me, as the revelation hits me.
Manic episodes. He has manic episodes.
What does that look like?