Chapter 36Olivia
Olivia
My eyes pinch as rays of light poke my lids. The teakwood scent of Cade’s cotton sheets jumpstarts my senses, and I lazily smile as I turn to my right. I burrow farther into the pillow, cranking one eye open, but the vacant side of the bed thwarts my excitement.
My brows cave in, reality slowly emerging. I whisk my long bangs out of my face, my shoulder hiking up as I absently lay my thumb on my bottom lip.
Where did he go?
Nerves kick my bare feet into motion, and I shuffle them against each other under the weight of the comforter. The events of yesterday race through my mind, so much unpacked in so little time.
After Cade and I sought shelter, we showered and snuggled on the couch by the wood burning stove. Not a bunch was said, but instead, we allowed our mental and physical exhaustion to take over.
I guess that’s why we were in bed by eight o’clock and I’m up at the crack of dawn right now. At least that’s what it feels like for someone who is most definitely not a morning person.
As my naked ankles slide over each other, my body aborts all movement. My stomach knots, an unsettling pressure planting inside me as I sit up. The duvet and sheets scroll off my upper body, and my chin dips to the Chrome Pipes Brewing t-shirt Cade lent me.
I fidget my legs under the bedding, tugging them out of their constraint to confirm that it’s not there.
My throat rolls as I direct my attention to the ivory wall across from the bed. Then I’m concocting every scenario in which my anklet could’ve been dug deep into the ground by now.
Fuck, did I lose it for good? Shit.
I discharge a long breath as I grab my phone from the nightstand. But as soon as I reach a hand over, my eyes lock with the stainless-steel wings linked around my bobble chain.
A smirk draws on my face as I cradle the jewelry in my fingers, turning it to see the engraving. And without hesitation, I’m hiking my foot on the bed to clasp the anklet around me.
My belly relaxes, and I sift a hand through my locks as I stand. I pad along the carpeted floor, rounding the end of the bed until a Post-it note snags my vision.
There’s a neon note laying on top of a folded flannel.
Not sure if you’re a morning person, but the lake is a great view at this hour.
Maybe not as great as you in my bed, but we can’t win them all sometimes.
And just like that, the butterflies take flight again.
Goddamn.
I open the glass door to Cade’s backyard, wrapped in his flannel atop my shorts. Sure, it’s quite large around my frame, but necessary for the crisp morning chill.
Golden sun rays spill through the white clouds, a gentle pink hue glowing amongst the pale blue. I descend the stone steps in my sneakers, the fresh air tickling my face as I walk to the fieldstone fire pit.
Cade’s chin rests on his shoulder when he hears me from behind, his elbow propped on the armrest of the Adirondack chair. “I apologize if I woke you,” he says, his voice level.
I bite my lip as I graze my fingers along his raised knuckles. “You didn’t.” My heart skips when his fingers playfully snatch mine, but I let go and sit in the chair next to him. “I’m not a morning person, to answer your question.”
Getting comfortable, I slump into the Adirondack seat by hiking my knees to my chest. My arms link around my legs, and then I’m peering over at him. Damn. We’re starting strong with a backward snapback.
“I don’t like to waste the day,” he says, sinking back into his chair. He manspreads in his black joggers, planting his palms on his knees as his eyes catch the lake.
“Good point,” I sigh. “But I still like my sleep.”
Cade smirks. “You were more than welcome to stay in my bed.” He pivots his attention to me, securing me with a suggestive glare.
“Maybe your company’s just too good to pass up.”
His smirk weakens slightly when he faces forward. Then his elbow plants on the armrest again, his knuckles greeting his stubbled lips.
I join Cade’s perusal of the lake, cuddling my legs closer. The sparkled ripples of the water softly flow under the early sun, a simplicity just as serene as the peace he’s provided me in our time apart.
“I take it you could get used to visiting me here?”
My eyelids drop at the sound of his question. “Mmhmm.”
Wisps of wind skim my face and hair as I inhale the rich air. My head angles back, the weight of the abrupt silence beginning to pile on my chest. I might be completely off base, but the one thing about Cade and I? We can read each other extremely well.
It was in the way the corner of his mouth dipped and the way his eyes are glued to the lake instead of me. And if that wasn’t enough evidence, it’s in his steady tone. Like he’s treading thin ice, wondering how the hell he’s going to walk this new path we’ve paved.
My eyes peel open, the soft pink and orange hues of the sky waiting for me to admire them. But as beautiful as the scene is, the cable of tension we’re tugging on tarnishes my appreciation.
“I always intended to tell you the truth before we had sex,” I confess. “I would have never made us take that step if you didn’t know the truth.”
“And if it was a year? Or two years until we took that step?”
I swallow thickly, my throat obstructing with every defense I planned. “I wouldn’t have waited that long,” I say softly.
“Are you sure about that?” Cade asks, his tone calm.
As valid as his question is, dense walls rise around my heart. I allow my legs to drop, my sneakers planting on the grass as I sit up straight. “I chose to tell you because I wanted to.” My fingers tuck a few loose strands of hair behind my ear, and I look over at him.
He meets my eyes. “Or because you were backed into a corner?” My jaw tenses as I stand up, only for Cade to rise beside me. “Where are you going?” he asks, a light scoff on the backend of his inquiry.
I gesture an arm out, peering up at him with the same steady demeanor. But my voice is curt. “If you’re so pissed about this, then maybe you shouldn’t have fucked me.”
I know he’s right.
I know I’m wrong.
My eyes skate between his, waiting for him to refute my comment. Waiting for him to understand. Waiting for him to forgive me.
But he just stares, his eyes unsure.
Instantly, my flight response spins into overdrive, and I round the chair to stroll toward the sliding doors.
“Hey!” Cade’s palm engulfs my upper arm, spinning me around to face him. “We’re gonna talk about this,” he demands before shaking his head. “I’m not asking.”
I strip my arm from his hold, gritting my teeth. “Don’t talk to me like that.”
He points a finger at me, his frustration combusting with mine as his eyes flash with caution. “Keep pushing me, Olivia, because I’m not in the mood for your prissy attitude today. When you’re ready to talk to me like an adult, let me know.”
Before I can exhale a breath, he’s treading toward the sliding doors.
Oh, hell no.
The concrete walls around me transform to steel. The need to protect my broken heart more dire than facing Cade.
I trail up to the house, all the rehearsed excuses left in my wake when I slip through the open glass door. “I want my clothes.”
“They’re washed and folded on the couch,” Cade answers, turning left into the kitchen.
My palms hug my lower back, jaw setting as I roll my eyes. “What do you do? Just save the day all the time with every little good deed?”
I turn right to enter the living room, padding up to the beige sofa with the stack of clothes.
“Seems to be what turns you on so much,” he spits back.
I whip around with my jeans and shirt nestled in my hands. “Excuse me?”
His palms are wrapped around the edge of the counter, eyes peeking out the window over the sink. “Dammit, Olivia, you lied to me.”
My lips purse as I slam the pile of clothes on the couch.
Tears prick my eyes, the hysteria inside my chest carrying me over the threshold of the living room.
“I made a mistake, okay! I know I fucked up!” He lifts off the black countertop, face tight as his eyes glimmer with a sliver of empathy.
“But I didn’t lie about who I am . I’ve never been anyone else but me .
The only thing I will ever apologize for is not telling you how we met. ”
He swallows thickly. “You were in love with me before I bumped into you that day, weren’t you?”
“No,” I whisper quickly. “I-I don’t know.” I ingest a wobbly breath, shaking my head as I shrug. “Maybe. But there’s nothing wrong with that.”
He pivots his head, wiping a palm down his mouth. “I don’t believe this,” he breathes.
His reaction freezes my lungs, forbidding them to contract under the icy crate.
“Don’t believe what, Cade?” I snap. “That the woman you fell for is really the helpless woman you found on the ground that night? Not fun or flirty, but weak. The woman you wanted nothing to do with. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to grant your wish after today. ”
He stabs me with punitive eyes. “Don’t ever say that to me.”
I walk a couple steps to invade his space, clenching my teeth as I punch a fist down. “ This is the exact reason we’re having this conversation. Because the version you see of me is the only version I want to forget ever existed.”
My body whirls around, trekking back to the living room to swipe my mound of clothes from the sofa. “I’ll put your flannel on your bed before I leave,” I say, exiting the living room.
When I reach the narrow corridor, I gasp when Cade wraps a hand around my arm. He turns me toward him, my eyes skimming his broad chest as I use the pile of clothes as a barrier.
“I want to leave,” I whisper, refusing to look at him.
“Drop the clothes,” Cade demands.
My skin hums, a hot tingle spreading to my core as his fingers knead the fabric of the flannel around my arm. But as much as I want him, his disappointment gnaws at the back of my mind.
I hug my clothes to me, pasting my stare to his gray, long-sleeved top. “I’ll leave you alone, I promise,” I breathe, wagging my head. “Just let me go, please.”
The clothes are vacuumed from my grasp, Cade tossing them aside before nesting my face in his palms. He slopes my chin up, forcing my eyes to meet his as his thumb tenderly strokes my bottom lip. “You lied to me.”
His voice is low. Commanding but desperate.
My throat bobs before my rickety breath tickles his thumb. His blue-gray eyes are famished, deprived of trust.
Trust he once had.
This isn’t about me.
It’s about him.