Chapter Forty-Seven
Sky
I shouldn’t feel shy as I step under the water, completely naked, but I do. A heat of the moment thing in the woods is one thing, but showering together feels… intimate. And Cade’s large frame takes up most of the stall, causing me to huddle against his body to fit. I keep my eyes down as the hot water cascades around us, and watch rivulets drip down his stomach and pour off his dick. Within seconds, the water turns red as it meets my skin.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice husky with a whisper.
“For what?” I ask, and he tilts my chin up.
I’m met with a dark stare of remorse that I don’t understand.
“For…” He rubs his thumbs over my cheeks, breaking down the dried blood. “Being crazy.”
I make a quiet scoff. “That wasn’t crazy. Bentley deserves much worse than the threat of getting lit on fire for what he did.”
I’m starting to think the real crazy is people who do things without cause. There was no reason for Bentley to do that to Cade, but there was every reason for Cade to do what he did. Crazy is unreasonable, and that’s not Cade. It didn’t even happen to me and I want to watch Bentley burn.
I purse my lips in hatred, and Cade stops wiping my cheeks, a crooked smirk gracing the corner of his mouth.
“It seems insanity is contagious,” he says.
I blush under what feels like praise.
“But that’s not… that’s not what I was referring to…” he continues.
He pulls his hand back, palm facing me, and I get my first look at the deep gash. Blood still leaks from it, and I wince at how much it must hurt.
“That’s not…” I place his hand under the water, trying to clean it, unsure what to say, because it is crazy. The way I got off on his blood is not… It’s not right. But god, did it feel good to be coated in him. I basically asked for more—didn’t stop him from hurting himself to give it to me either. I was the one being crazy.
“It’s my fault,” I finally say.
He pulls his hand from me.
“No, it’s not.” His words are firm and too loud as he sets his jaw and snatches a bottle of shampoo.
“Turn around,” he commands.
With a huff, I do as I’m told, and feel him press against my ass. A tense silence encompasses us as he washes my hair, though I don’t know what about it being my fault set him off. I did start it when I tasted his knuckles.
Every so often, I feel him pluck at a strand, and then watch a crumpled leaf pool at the drain. It seems to be taking a long time to get my hair clean, and the room is starting to fill with a thick steam. After five more minutes, I notice no more leaves or twigs are ending up at the drain. Cade is just rinsing and twisting the length of my hair over and again. I’m about to say something, concerned that if I don’t, we might be here until the sun comes up, when he finally speaks.
“I was in a mental institution.”
The words choke up around us, nowhere to go with the steam, and I have nothing to say to replace them. I already knew this, but it feels wrong to admit and even more wrong to pretend like I don’t.
“For three months during sophomore year,” he continues at barely above a whisper. “After I… After I tried to kill myself.”
My heart aches with worry, hearing him say it out loud, even though it was two years ago and he’s currently safe behind me. But the admission, the undeniable certainty that dying was his intention, that he could have succeeded , brings tears to my eyes anyway, and it all suddenly makes sense. What Bentley did with Henry and Conner —the guy that Cade put in a coma—was sophomore year. The same year he was institutionalized. I realize Ruby left out a huge fucking piece of the puzzle. She has to know what happened. She’s been at Hillcrest since junior year, and Cade said there were pictures.
“Cade…” I don’t need him to suffer through explaining anymore to me. I get it now. If Ruby had told me the whole story, then I wouldn’t have pushed him in the woods. I wouldn’t have put him through rehashing that and threatening his sanity.
“No, Sky. I want you to understand that it’s not your fault.” He spins me around and grabs my arms. His dark eyes have turned a shade of black so bleak that I lose any rebuttal I was hoping to conjure.
“I am crazy. Certifiable.” He shakes me. “I barely keep myself from being committed, and I’m only strong enough to do that because I know I only have to make it to graduation. I live in a shack in the woods, for fuck’s sake. I can’t be around people without wanting to hurt them. I can’t even love you without tainting you with my sins.”
He starts to aggressively work some of the leftover blood from my chest, grabbing soap and squirting almost the whole bottle on me before I gain the ability to speak again.
“You didn’t taint me,” I snap and bat at his hands. “I wanted it.”
“No angel wants this.” He grieves at the red tinged floor, and tries to rinse me off. “It’s bad enough I’m going to take your soul, and now I’m soiling your wings.”
“I’m not an angel,” I say. “And you aren’t really the grim reaper.”
“But I am, Sky. I am. Come graduation I—”
“Stop it.” I cut him off before he starts on one of his spiraling tangents. “You aren’t. You’re just…” I struggle to find the words. “Just you. Just Cade.” I cup his cheek, trying to smooth away the tension that’s set into his features. “And I’m not an angel you have to worry about. I was already soiled anyway.”
Oh, no. I drop my head, realizing what I’ve said.
“What does that mean?” He grabs my chin, forcing me to look up.
His assessing gaze is steely, no longer manic, and of course, of course, that’s what would snap him out of it.
“Nothing. I just… I’m not—” I correct myself. “I wasn’t a virgin… or anything like that.”
I frown at the truth. I wish Cade had been my first, but I wouldn’t even know Cade if Chase hadn’t forced himself on me.
“I didn’t think you were.” Cade narrows his eyes. “But why don’t you sound happy about that?”
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I haven’t said a word about what happened since that night in the hospital when they swabbed me. It was the most humiliating thing, somehow even worse than what Chase did, but I did it because I knew— know —that it was the right thing to do. I recounted every single detail to the female detective, despite the way it repulsed me to say it out loud. I put myself through that so that no other girl would have to. But then my father showed up and shut down my allegations without even a trace of concern. In his words, he wouldn’t let me ruin a poor boy’s life and in turn the Lyons’ name. Whatever he said to the detective, I was discredited to the point where my case, that was barely even open, was closed. It was shut my mouth or it would be shut for me.
Unfortunately, the ‘best friend’ I confided in, the one who came with me to the hospital, did not have anyone holding a hand over her mouth, and my story became hers to tell. A story that twisted me into a blatant liar that even my own friends believed. One about a dark movie theater and the spreading of legs—except they were not spread willingly.
“Because my first time was taken from me,” I confess.
“You were—” he grinds his jaw like he’s chewing on rocks. “Someone—” He can’t say the word.
The sudden anger pulsing off him is making more steam than the water and something cracks inside of me, abruptly and viciously. Tears fill my eyes. No one, not a single person , mirrored the rage I’ve had to bury, and yet with just a vague hint, Cade is an inferno. It’s how my father should have reacted. How my friends should have reacted. But instead, they ridiculed me, and I had to tuck away my truth.
“That’s why I’m here,” I croak. “Because it was too embarrassing for my father.”
Cade opens his mouth, blinks several times, and then snaps it shut as a tremor rolls through him. The veins in his neck bulge, and I swear I hear him grind enamel off his teeth. I’m about to reach out to calm him when I notice fresh blood appear at the drain. My eyes slowly track it until landing on his fist. He’s squeezing so tightly, his nails digging into the gash, that crimson drips rapidly.
Oh, god. I think I created a monster.