CHAPTER EIGHT
KADE
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I roar, dragging my hands through my hair and yanking hard at the roots like the pain might snap me out of this. “Why?” I shout up at the sky, chest heaving, like there’s suddenly a god up there with a sick sense of humour, watching me implode for sport.
“Ouch,” Anika says coolly behind me, the sharp crack of her heels slicing through the evening quiet. “She looked pretty upset.”
I spin on her so fast, it makes my head swim. “This is your fault,” I snarl, jabbing a finger at her chest. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
I stalk across the road towards the small shop opposite the B and B, boots hitting the pavement hard. Her heels click after me, and I groan, rage coiling tighter in my gut.
“I think you’ll find,” she says smoothly, “this was all your fault.”
“Fuck you,” I snap over my shoulder. “Stop following me.”
Inside the shop, the fluorescent lights feel too bright, too harsh. I wrench open a fridge and grab four cans of beer, not even checking the labels. Then I move to the shelf behind the counter and take a large bottle of whiskey, my hands shaking as I slam it all down.
“That won’t help,” Anika mutters.
“It’ll make me feel something,” I bite back, my voice as sharp as broken glass.
The kid behind the counter startles, his eyes wide as he starts scanning the items like he’s afraid I might explode. I throw cash down, and don’t wait for the change. I storm back out into the night.
My eyes burn. My throat feels thick.
I can still see Eden’s face—shock, hurt, betrayal—like it’s been carved into the inside of my skull.
I did this.
Every step back towards the B and B feels heavier than the last, the weight of it all pressing down until I’m not sure how the fuck I’m still standing.
In the room, I set the drinks down on the side and stare at them like they’re daring me. It’s been a long time since I touched a drop.
After she left, it was all I wanted—to drown everything out, to go numb. Maggie put her foot down back then. Took the bottle straight out my hand and told me I’d grieve sober or not at all. I hated her for it at the time.
Now, I’m grateful.
I huff out a breath, shaking my head with a humourless smile. If she were here now, she’d already be giving me that look. The don’t you fucking dare one.
I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Diesel. He answers immediately. I push to my feet and step back out the room, shutting the door behind me. The last thing I need is Anika overhearing this.
“How’s it going, Pres?”
“Bad,” I mutter.
“How bad?”
“I’ve just bought a bottle of whiskey.”
He scoffs. “Travel size?”
A short laugh escapes me. “No. I pulled out the big guns.”
I hear movement on his end, a door closing. He’s taking this seriously now. “Alright,” he says. “Shoot.”
“Anika’s here.”
A beat, then, “What the fuck? Why?”
“We’ve got a meet with a contact at the docks tomorrow. She rocked up earlier.” I drag a hand over my face. “I didn’t tell Eden, and guess who just saw us together.”
“Fuck,” he mutters. “Is she okay? Did you explain?”
“No,” I say quietly. “She left before I could.”
“So, go after her,” he snaps. “You didn’t need to call me to know that.”
I inhale slowly, chest tight. “I just feel like I’m fucking this up,” I admit. Saying it out loud makes it worse somehow. Real.
“Fucking up would be giving up. It would be opening that bottle instead of setting things straight,” Diesel says. “You went all that way to reclaim your old lady, Kade, so what are you waiting for? Where’s your fight?”
I groan, tipping my head back against the wall. “You’re right. I know you are. I just . . .” My voice drops. “I can’t go through it again knowing I might have to leave here without her. Without my kid.”
“Kade,” he says firmly, “if we have to uproot this entire club and bring it to you, we will. Stop holding back and show her how much she means to you.” Then, sharper, “And don’t you dare open that fucking bottle or I’ll come there myself and I’ll bring Maggie with me.”
A small smile tugs at my lips, even with my chest aching like hell.
“Thanks, D.”
I end the call and stare at the door.
If there’s one thing I know about Eden, it’s that words mean nothing without action.And I can’t show her anything if I’m here, standing in a room with Anika, letting Eden believe the worst.
I head back inside.
Anika has already poured two glasses of whiskey.
The sight of it makes something low and ugly stir in my chest. The memory of the burn. The release. I stiffen, my tongue running over my lips before I can stop myself.
No.
I grab my bag and start shoving my things into it.
“What are you doing?” she asks, incredulous.
“I’m leaving.”
She scoffs. “Because of Eden? Isn’t she with someone else?”
“That doesn’t mean I get to be,” I snap, finally turning on her.
I fix her with a look so cold; it wipes the smugness straight off her face. “Me and you will never happen,” I say, slow and deliberate. “I love Eden, and if you try to come between us,” I lean closer, “I will end you.”
Her smile falters, just for a second.
“You realise what you’re passing up, right?” she says stiffly.
“Whatever you think you’re offering,” I reply, shouldering my bag, “will never touch what I have with Eden.”
“Had,” she corrects.
I don’t rise to it.
“I’ll be in touch with your father,” I say coolly. “Until then, you deal with Diesel. He’s running things while I’m gone.”
I don’t wait for her response. I don’t give her time to throw threats or power plays or remind me who she thinks she is.
I walk out.
Martha rips the door open before my fist even reaches the wood.
I stagger back, caught off guard by the fury blazing across her face. She’s always been quiet, careful. The kind of woman who shrinks rather than explodes.
Not tonight.
“How dare you show your face here?” she hisses, stepping outside and closing the door behind her with deliberate care. Like she doesn’t want Eden to hear this. Like she’s protecting her.
“That’s exactly why I’m here,” I say quickly. “To explain.”
“She doesn’t want to hear it,” Martha snaps, shoving me hard in the chest.
I barely rock back, but the hit lands where it counts.
“Please,” I say, lowering my voice. “Just let me see her. It’s not what it looked like.”
She laughs, short, sharp, humourless. “She’s the same woman you were with weeks ago,” she spits, already pulling her phone from her pocket.
My stomach drops.
She taps the screen, then thrusts it up between us. A photo of me and Anika at the charity function. Too close. Too familiar. Her hand on my arm.
I groan, dragging a hand down my face. “Tell me you didn’t show that to Eden.”
“Of course, I did,” she snaps. “I didn’t even see you at first. She did. Straight away.”
Fuck.
“She’s carrying your child and you’re out there playing gangster games with women like that.”
“Jesus, Martha,” I growl.
“Don’t,” she fires back. “Just don’t. Get your shit and leave us alone. We’re happy here.”
I shake my head slowly. “I can’t do that.”
“Well, then you’re wasting your time.”
I hesitate, then ask the question that’s been clawing at my chest. “Why is she this upset anyway?” I ask carefully. “Isn’t she with Peter?”
Her expression flickers, just for a second, but it’s enough.
My eyes narrow. “She is with Peter, right?”
“Goodnight, Kade,” she says flatly.
She turns, walks back inside, and shuts the door.
The lock clicks, followed by the sound of the bolt, then another.
I huff out a breath and drop my bag at my feet, sliding down the wall until I’m sitting on the cold stone step, staring at the door that just slammed shut on my entire life.
Yeah, it’s going to be a long fucking night.
EDEN
My eyes are puffy. I know they are.
Still, I walk into the kitchen with a bright smile pasted on my face and my shoulders squared like armour. Martha looks up from her cereal bowl and winces.
I deflate instantly.
“I look terrible, don’t I?”
She tilts her head. “Not terrible, just . . . tired?”
“Great.”
“But not as tired as Kade,” she adds, a hint of smug satisfaction creeping in.
I frown. “You’ve seen him already?” I glance at the clock. It’s barely eight a.m.
She stands and jerks her head towards the lounge. I follow, my stomach tightening with every step. She creeps up to the window and lifts the blind just enough for us to see out.
My heart stutters.
Outside, hunched on the step, hood pulled low, arms wrapped tight around himself, is Kade.
“Jesus,” I whisper. “How long has he been there?”
“All night,” she says, clearly pleased.
“Martha,” I hiss, horrified as she drops the blind. “You let him sleep out there all night?”
“I didn’t ask him to show up,” she shrugs. “Wasn’t he a soldier? He’ll survive.”
“That’s not the point,” I mutter, already turning away.
I pour a coffee, my hands shaking, and thrust it towards her. She stares at it like I’ve handed her poison.
“Take it out to him,” I snap.
“No.”
I spin on her. “What’s gotten into you? This isn’t like you.”
She folds her arms. “I heard you,” she says quietly. “Sobbing. All night.” Heat floods my cheeks. “He deserves hell for upsetting you again,” she adds, her voice fierce now.
“I’m a mess,” I say, softer. “Hormones. And he never said he was here alone. He didn’t say he was here for me. He doesn’t owe me an explanation.”
She rolls her eyes, snatches the mug, and heads for the door. “Why can’t you just be mad for once?” she calls back. “Yell. Throw something. Slap him if it helps. Stop being so damn reasonable.”
The door closes behind her.
I exhale shakily. At least the coffee will warm him up.
When I step outside for my appointment, I don’t expect him to still be there.
So, when he stands, stiff and slow, offering me a weak smile, my heart squeezes.
I glance down and spot the coffee spilled on the stone beside where he sat.
“You didn’t want a hot drink?” I ask quietly.
He follows my gaze and huffs out a small, humourless laugh. “Didn’t get the chance. Martha tipped it out.”
I wince. “She’ll calm down.”