Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Cade
The sails were already being lowered as we turned back toward Silver Cove, the afternoon sun slanting low enough to cast shadows across the water.
The easy laughter from earlier had softened into something quieter now, comfortable, tired in the best way.
The kind of tired that came from salt air, sun-warmed skin, and a day spent doing absolutely nothing productive.
Missy sat beside me near the stern, her bare feet tucked under her and her hair loose and wind-tousled. She leaned into my side like it was second nature. Like she’d been doing it for years.
She had, I guess, it just hadn’t meant what it did now.
What we were to one another was now obvious to everyone on board. So far, her brother hadn’t punched me in the face. I called that a win.
When we returned to the docks, Adam maneuvered the sailboat into its spot with practiced ease, and everyone pitched in, hands reaching for ropes, someone hopping off to secure the lines. The day unraveled slowly, reluctantly, like none of us were in a hurry to let it end.
Max clapped me on the shoulder as we disembarked. “This was a good day,” he said with that knowing grin of his.
“The best kind,” I agreed.
“Be good to her. You both deserve happiness.” He squeezed my shoulder lightly again and turned away. As far as blessings go, I’d take it.
Goodbyes were said and promises made about doing it again soon, and then Missy and I walked toward my truck. She slid into the passenger seat as I held open her door.
“I could fall asleep right now,” she sighed.
I smiled as I started the engine. “Don’t. I’m not carrying you inside. My hero routine is on cooldown right now. I’m just as tired as you are.”
She laughed, tipping her head back against the seat. “I thought you liked carrying me around.”
She wasn’t wrong. I was pretty sure I could muster up enough strength to cart her inside if I had to.
We drove through town with the windows cracked. I turned onto the familiar road toward my place, then glanced over at her.
“I’ll need to stop by my place first,” she said, like she’d read my mind. “Just to grab a few things.”
“Sure,” I said easily. Before I could overthink it, the words were already there, pushing at my chest. “Or… you could just bring everything.”
She turned to look at me fully now. “Everything?”
I kept my eyes on the road, suddenly very aware of how loud my heartbeat sounded in my ears.
“You’re at my place more than your own. You’ve got half your stuff there already.
You basically live at my place anyway. You stay there every night.
Your shampoo’s taken over my shower shelf.
Your books are on my nightstand. I keep finding hair clips in places that don’t make sense.
” I shrugged, trying for casual and probably failing.
“And I like waking up with you. I like being home with you.”
Silence stretched between us, not awkward, not heavy. Just… quiet.
“I’m not saying you have to decide anything this second,” I added quickly, glancing at the road ahead.
She didn’t say anything right away. Instead, she reached over and rested her hand on my forearm, her thumb brushing lightly against my skin.
“Okay,” she said softly, “let me think about it. I’m too tired right now to decide anything.”
That one word, okay, settled something deep in my chest. I pulled up in front of her building a minute later and cut the engine.
“I’ll be quick,” she said, already opening the door.
I watched her walk up the back stairs at Holley Hall, the last of the afternoon light catching in her hair, and realized I wasn’t imagining a future anymore.
I was asking for one.
I waited in the truck while she ran up the exterior stairs, watching her disappear inside. I told myself not to overthink it.
I failed.
By the time she came back down with a canvas bag slung over her shoulder and another tucked under her arm. I wondered how much stuff was left in her place anyway. She couldn’t have much more. Right?
She opened the passenger door and paused when she caught my expression. “What?” she asked, smiling like she already knew I was about to tease her.
“Nothing,” I said, keeping my voice light, even though my pulse had kicked up.
She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes toward me. “Cade?” My name was a warning that made me chuckle.
“I was just asking myself how much stuff you had left, then I realized that it was you. You had two bedrooms when you were a kid that you filled up with stuff.”
“I used one as a study room,” she pointed out. “Besides, we had six other empty bedrooms in that house.” She shrugged. “It only seemed fitting that I use two.”
I laughed.
Back at my place, the house greeted us, solid, warm, and familiar. The porch light showcased the newly painted front door that creaked in that comforting way that somehow meant home.
Inside, I set her bags down near the base of the stairs.
“How about I heat up some leftover spaghetti from last night?” I suggested, toeing off my shoes. “I’ve got a loaf of garlic bread I can throw in the oven too.”
“I’ll make a salad,” she said, brightening instantly, like she’d been waiting for an excuse to claim a task.
Before she could escape into the kitchen, I caught her wrist and tugged her back gently, pulling her into my arms. I kissed her slow and unhurried, the kind of kiss that didn’t need to go anywhere because it already was everything.
“Today was amazing,” she whispered against my mouth. “Just what I needed.”
“You also have tomorrow off,” I reminded her, smiling when she groaned softly.
“Yes,” she said, pointing at me as we headed toward the kitchen, “and I plan on helping you paint. Don’t think I forgot.”
I laughed and grabbed the garlic bread from the freezer. “I wouldn’t dare.”
The kitchen was still half-finished, with open shelving instead of cabinets on one wall. The new countertops looked amazing, even though the rest of the space wasn’t finished yet.
Missy moved through it like she’d always been there, washing her hands in the new farmhouse sink that I’d installed. For a moment I watched her pulling greens from the fridge and hunting down a bowl without asking where anything was.
That hit me more than I expected. No matter what she thought of this place, she felt at home here, and that tugged at my heart strings.
I turned on the oven and set the spaghetti on the stove to warm.
Within minutes, the familiar scent of tomato and garlic filled the space.
Outside, the late afternoon light faded, replaced by the soft amber glow from the overhead fixture I’d installed last month.
Every little improvement I’d made suddenly felt like it had a purpose beyond just me.
We worked side by side without bumping into each other, without awkwardness.
She chopped cucumbers and tomatoes as she chatted about some story her brother had told her earlier that day.
I leaned against the counter, watching her for a second longer than necessary, thinking about how easily she fit here. How natural it felt.
When she was done with the story, I smiled.
“So,” I said casually, maybe too casually, “I was thinking that if you move in for real, you’ll probably need more space than just room for a toothbrush and a razor. I can turn one of the rooms upstairs into an office for you.”
She froze for half a second, knife hovering over the cutting board. Then she glanced at me, eyes soft, searching.
“Are you sure?” she asked quietly.
I didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I’d been thinking three guest rooms was more than I needed anyway.”
For a moment she tilted her head and I knew that she was thinking about it, then she smiled slowly.
“Okay,” she said simply, like it wasn’t terrifying and wonderful all at once.
“I was really liking having a full office space. Not that I’d set it up fully yet, but the thought of having one was nice. I need a space to do all my business.”
“You mean it?” I asked, and the words felt heavy, like I was trying to hold a mountain in place with just my lungs. “You’ll really move in here?”
I watched her closely. Her chin rose, that stubborn little tilt I’d known since we were kids, and then she laughed, the sound bright enough to cut through the nerves knotting my stomach.
“Yes, I’ll move in here,” she said, her eyes softening. “If you’re sure you want to put up with me. I remember a lot of complaints one summer on a trip to Greece when we had to share a stateroom.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding in a burst as a laugh rumbled out of my chest, and the memory of that trip hit me. The heat, the salt, and twelve-year-old Missy, whose suitcase was like an exploded grenade. “You’ve changed. You’re not nearly as messy as you were back then.”
“We’ve both changed,” she countered, a mischievous glint in her eyes as I stepped into her space and pulled her against me. “You no longer have stinky boy cooties like you did in junior high, for one.”
I laughed, the sound muffled against her lips as I kissed her.
Dinner was a blur of quiet perfection. We sat at the small table by the window and talked about the trim, the tile, the paint colors that I’d been obsessing over for the place. “I was leaning toward a slate blue for my bedroom,” I said, then caught myself. “Our bedroom.”
“Oh, that will look nice. Dark, rich, warm,” she agreed. We mentally moved from one room to the next, talking colors and details.
After dinner we did the dishes together.
I tried to wave her off, since she spent most days on her feet in a professional kitchen, for God’s sake, but she just nudged me aside with her hip.
“This is teamwork, Cade,” she said firmly, rolling up her sleeves.
“Besides, in culinary school, you learn to find the Zen in the suds.”
I leaned against the counter and just watched her for a moment. Her hair kept slipping its anchor, soft curls falling against her cheeks as she worked. This was it. The dangerous thought I usually tried to keep locked in a box in the back of my mind came roaring to the front.
Her. Here. Every morning. Every night.
The mental image of her coffee mug next to mine, of her chef’s knives on the magnetic strip, of kids’ muddy boots by the door ten years from now, it hit me like a physical wave of heat.
The kitchen suddenly felt ten degrees hotter, and my heart was hammering a rhythm that felt like “finally, finally, finally.”
When the last plate was dried and tucked away, she leaned back against the sink, drying her hands and studying me with a small, knowing smile.
“What?” I asked, my voice a little rougher than intended.
“Nothing.” She shrugged, her gaze wandering over the room before settling back on me. “It’s just… this. I like being here with you.”
I didn’t wait. I crossed the distance, kissing her slow and deep, tasting the spaghetti sauce and the wine and the promise of the night.
I gripped her waist and hoisted her up until she was perched on the counter, stepping between her thighs so I could pull her flush against my chest. I kissed her until both of us started vibrating.
She fit. That was the only way to describe it. Every curve of her was a puzzle piece I’d been carrying around, waiting for the rest of the picture to show up.
“I’ve got you,” I whispered, then I scooped her up, her legs instantly locking around my waist. I started toward the stairs, my pulse thrumming in my ears.
“You’re going to drop me,” she warned, though she was giggling, her fingers threading through the hair at the nape of my neck. “Like you did in junior high when I tried out for cheerleading and asked you to be my spotter while I practiced.”
I chuckled, pausing at the base of the stairs to shift her weight, feeling the solid, beautiful reality of her in my arms. “I’ve grown a lot since then, Missy. In more ways than one.”
“Mmm, you’re right, this is much better,” she sighed, resting her temple against my shoulder.
Upstairs, the room was cool, and the moonlight spilled across the unmade bed. I slid her down until her bare feet hit the floor, then slowly, almost reverently, began to peel away her clothes. My hands were steady, but my mind was a riot.
I’d spent years watching her from the sidelines.
I’d seen her look at the preppy guys, the guys with the right pedigree and the polished shoes.
I’d known I wasn’t her type. I was just the guy who worked with his hands and kept his feelings buried under layers of sawdust and silence.
But somewhere, the friendship had shifted.
The tectonic plates of my life had moved, and suddenly, there was no version of the future that didn’t have her at the center of it.
I loved her. I loved her so much it felt like it might actually crack my ribs if I didn’t let it out soon. Even if we crashed and burned, I knew I’d never be able to untangle my soul from hers.
I was moving slowly, my thumbs tracing the line of her hip, just marveling at the fact that she was actually here.
“Cade?” she whispered, her voice a soft question in the dark.
I looked up, catching the heat in her eyes. “I’m just enjoying the view,” I said with a grin. “Unwrapping a gift like you is its own reward.”
She chuckled, her hands reaching for the button of my shorts. “Then let me try.”
When we finally tumbled back onto the sheets, skin-to-skin, the tension in the room was electric. I hovered over her, my arms braced on either side of her head, needing to hear it one more time.
“You’re really moving in here?” I asked, my voice barely a breath.
She didn’t answer with words at first. She just wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me down into a kiss that tasted like home. “Yes,” she whispered against my lips.
When I moved into her, it wasn’t just physical. It was a homecoming. Every stroke, every breath, felt like I was building something more permanent than any house. As the world started to blur and the pressure built, I knew I couldn’t keep how I felt about her inside anymore.
I leaned down, my lips grazing the shell of her ear as she peaked, and I whispered the three words I’d been saving for her since I was old enough to know what they meant.