Chapter Eight
Kade
All our playful banter falls apart as one tear, then a second slide down Emma’s cheek. The conversation dies, and I”m moving before I even register the decision.
She”s curling into herself as she sits on the couch, winding her arms around her core in a protective gesture that breaks my heart. I’ve never seen her look so small and breakable.
I sit beside her, close enough that our sides touch. Instinctively, my arms wrap around her, pulling her to me. She fits just right, like she”s made to be there.
“Kade...” She chokes out my name, a whisper that sounds like it’s tearing up her throat as she speaks.
“Shh, it”s okay,” I say softly, though I know damn well it’s not.
She plants a hand on my chest and shoves as if to put some distance between us. “I”m fine,” she says, swiping angrily at her tears as I give her room to breathe, even though all I want to do is hold her close. Her eyes are brimming with hurt, and her lie is as clear as day. But I’m not about to call her out. I’m here to help, to comfort, not confront.
Unfortunately, my mouth has other ideas. “Emma Riley, you”re about as fine as a three-legged chair.” I can”t help the concern shouldering through my tone.
I”m itching to find Ryan and rearrange his face. If he”s behind those tears... I clench my jaw, my hands balling into fists at the thought. But I force myself to relax because this isn”t about me or what I want to do to him.
“Want to tell me what happened?” I ask, trying to keep my voice and question neutral.
“Ryan...” Her voice breaks, and she looks away, her light brown curls shifting on her arms. Without warning, she throws her head forward and ties her hair up with a hair tie she removes from her wrist before settling into place, refusing to look at me again.
“Hey.” I reach out, tucking a stray lock behind her ear. “You don”t have to tell me anything if you don”t want to.” I don’t want her to feel pressured. I want to be a safe haven if she needs someone, not another stressor to navigate.
“Thanks, Kade,” she whispers, her blue eyes meeting mine.
“Anything he did,” I say, my tone darkening, “anything at all, I swear I”ll make him regret it. Soup spoon style.”
A laugh bubbles up from her, despite the tears—a sound that hits me square in the chest.
“I’d forgotten about that,” she says, recalling the memory of Alex threatening to castrate her first ex-boyfriend with a soup spoon. The memory feels warm, and the moment between us seems to soften.
I take a deep breath, leaning in closer. “I’m here. And you already know I want you, so I’m not hiding or lying about a damn thing.”
She lets out a sharp laugh at my words, clearly not taking me seriously. But I don’t know how I can be more clear. She sobers up and swallows hard, her gaze fixed on a spot past my shoulder. “He... he thought we were more. That I”d want more.” Her voice cracks, and it”s like I can feel the break tear right through me.
“More?” I ask, pretty sure I know what she’s implying, but not wanting to jump to conclusions.
“Like relationship more,” she says, her eyes sad once more.
I nod, understanding all too well the games people play. “Guys can be real jerks, pretending to be a friend when they”re after something else.” I’m guilty of the same - but that’s a game I don’t play anymore.
“Exactly.” She bites her lip, looking down at her hands twisting in her lap. “I trusted him. And now I just feel stupid.”
“Hey, look at me,” I say.
She raises her eyes, and there”s so much vulnerability that it takes everything I have not to pull her into my arms again. But I do it anyway and she melts into my chest. “You”re not stupid, Emma. Not by a long shot.”
“Then why didn”t I see it coming?” There”s frustration in her voice, a plea for some kind of understanding.
“Because you deserve better,” I say firmly. “You deserve friends who respect you, who care about you without an agenda.”
She lets out a chuckle that sounds more like tears. “I thought he did.”
“Anyone would have believed the same in your place.” My hand finds its way to her hair, fingers gently stroking along her scalp and sending a shiver through her. “You”ve got a big heart, Emma. It”s not your fault someone tried to take advantage of that.”
“Kade...” Her voice is a whisper, a mix of relief and something else I can”t quite name.
I pull her closer. With her head against my chest, my heartbeat seems to sync with hers. I pet her hair, each stroke meant to soothe, to comfort. She relaxes against me, her body melting into mine as if we were made for each other.
And damn if it doesn”t feel like heaven.
I press my lips to the top of her head, inhaling the sweet smell of her hair in a gesture meant to be comforting, but she tenses and pulls away. Her sky-blue eyes, usually so full of mirth, now swim with confusion and hurt.
“Why are you still here, Kade?” She wipes at her cheeks, a futile attempt to erase the evidence of her tears. “I told you to leave a while ago.”
This is going to be tough to explain, but I”m going to give her the truth. She deserves that much. “I couldn”t leave,” I admit, my voice gruffer than I intend. “I was sitting outside in my car, trying to figure out what my next move should be.”
“Next move?” She cocks her head, her brows furrowing as she tries to figure out what I mean. Her sadness seems to dry up all at once, and I can’t hold back a smile. She”s always been quick to rebound; she’s resilient in ways that surprise me.
“Yeah,” I say, raking a hand through my hair. “I was worried about you. I wanted to help... but felt kind of helpless.”
She blinks, taken aback by my honesty, and then something like appreciation flickers across her face. But it”s gone before I can be sure, replaced by a practicality that”s all Emma.
“Hungry?” She points at the pizza with a small smile that doesn”t quite reach her eyes.
“Sure,” I say, happy to share a relaxed moment as friends, even though I want her more than I could ever admit. I see her cheeks going pink, feel the tremor that runs through her body.
We sit on her couch; her cross-legged and casual, and me with my feet on the floor with my feet and knees far apart in a comfortable position that feels natural, as if this were any other night and not the first time we’ve done something like this.
We talk about the pulsing life of the club, how much Alex irritates her, and her family—a topic that”s both simple and complex.
“Mom”s planning another one of her infamous Sunday dinners,” she tells me, a laugh escaping her as she bites into a slice piled high with mushrooms and black olives. After chewing thoughtfully for a moment and swallowing, she lifts both shoulders and inspects the slice. “You know how she gets. She wants everyone there.”
I sense there’s more to that topic and I want to dig, but gently.
“Grace is a force of nature,” I say, and it”s true. The woman has held her family together through a husband walking out, a heart attack, and Emma herself running off without a word for a while. What she’s experienced would’ve broken anyone else.
“I still feel guilty,” Emma says, still staring at her pizza. She”s got a speck of sauce at the corner of her mouth, and damn if I don”t want to reach over and wipe it away with my thumb. But I don’t. Instead, I focus on the warmth of the moment, the easy banter, and the way she”s slowly opening herself to me.
One thing we both refuse to talk about is what went down between us at the club. Even though all I can think about is how I’d almost kissed her, her quick breathing when I’d pinned her hands above her head, the fiery challenge in her eyes... and as we talk, I wonder how long it’ll be before we’re in a similar position... and I don’t hold back.
The grease-stained pizza box lies discarded on the coffee table as I lean back against the couch, arms stretched out, one hand dangerously close to where she sits, curled up like a cat seeking comfort.
“Hey, I heard you played hero at work,” I start, my voice casual as I glance in her direction. “You fixed the walk-in freezer all by yourself?”
She lifts both shoulders, looking at anything but me. “The repair guys couldn”t come out for a week. So I looked up how to fix it for now, and they’ll repair it when they come out.”
“That’s pretty amazing,” I say.
She’s quick to blow me off again. “Yeah, well, I had to do something. Couldn”t wait around for someone else to swoop in. Besides, I didn”t want to risk getting stuck in there with you again.” Her eyes tick to mine, heat flickering there. “Who knows what could happen next time?”
My pulse races at the suggestion, my mind instantly churning with images best left in the dark. Kissing her until she”s breathless. Running my hands over her curves. Whispering desires against her soft skin. The fantasies blaze through me, searing and sudden.
I shift uncomfortably, shoving those thoughts aside. My gaze finds hers, and damn if she isn”t looking at me like she”s seen every single one of them flicker across my face. I clear my throat, desperately clawing back to safer ground.
“I mean, next time I might pour a cold one over your head to cool you off.” As she says the words, she gives away that she does know my line of thinking.
“Right, because a little cold has stopped me before,” I joke, but the words fall flat even to my own ears.
She”s watching me now, her lips parted slightly, cheeks flushed with a blush that sends my imagination spiraling. Would she blush like that if I was losing myself in her body?
But I”ve got to remember who she is and that she’s vulnerable from whatever went down with Ryan. She’s off-limits as my best friend’s sister, and somehow she’s completely under my skin in ways I can”t afford.
“Kade,” she whispers, reaching out tentatively with curled fingers as if she might actually touch me. Her hand hovers in the air, and it takes everything in me not to grab her hand, to pull her in and finally taste the lips I”ve been fantasizing about since forever.
“Yeah?” I reply, my voice low as I fight to keep it steady and even.
“Thanks for being here. And... for everything.” Her gratitude hits me harder than any confession of desire ever could, and I know now that I”d do anything for this girl. Anything.
“Always, Em,” I say, the promise lighting up her eyes as she watches me.
We sit there in silence, the tension as thick as the cheese on our pizza. I want her—God, how I want her—but not like this. Not when she needs a friend more than another complication.
“More pizza?” I ask, desperate for a distraction from the way she bites her lip and looks at me like she might just be starting to see me as more than her brother”s best friend.
“Sure,” she says with a nod, though neither of us moves to reach for the box.
I’m too caught up in the way she’s looking at me, the obvious hunger in her eyes, and the warning on her beautiful, kissable lips.