Chapter 3 Cade #2
“The kind who spends her days with a one-eyed cat or out with friends. When it’s dark outside, you walk the centre of the sidewalk to avoid both the street and alleyways where those who’d harm you may hide.
If you take a bus, you sit close to the driver.
You clock into your job on time and probably even stay late without requesting overtime pay.
You hand in all your assignments on time and get high marks.
You enjoy Saturday mornings in your favourite café and spend a mandated monthly dinner with your family.
At night, you crawl into bed in pyjamas, play on your phone or watch a show, and then you fall asleep, sleep safe and sound—and away from the bad guys of the world. Any of that right?”
Her smile slowly fades, which tells me I’ve hit the mark. Maybe not on every fact, but some of it. Between her demeanour and everything gleaned from her letters, I’d say most of that’s the truth.
Why she joined the program is still a question mark, but it may be nothing more than a good girl playing rebel. But it’s okay. Doesn’t make me like her any less.
The virtuous ones can be corrupted.
She swallows, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You learned all of that from knowing me for half a second?”
“Mostly from your letters.” My fingers drum on the tabletop, and I risk a peek at the clock. Time is speeding by too quickly. Soon, I’ll be hauled back to my cell and left with only my memories of her sitting across from me.
“Well, you’re right about some of what you said. Honestly, I never thought about walking in the centre of the sidewalk at night, but that’s a smart move. I’ll do that next time.”
See, I won’t harm you. I’ll protect you.
“I keep one close friend, and do visit her often, yes, but I spend most of my time with Millie. When I’m not in class, that is.
I clock in on time at work, but never stay late.
Handing in my assignments on time only helps my marks, so yeah, I do.
Didn’t pay all that tuition to fail. Spending every Saturday at a café sounds expensive, so definitely not, though there is a nice one around the corner from my place I’ll pop into occasionally.
My family doesn’t live in town, so I only see them once every couple years, which means no monthly dinners.
You pretty much guessed my night routine exactly, but picture a cat beside me.
Maybe,” she pauses, staring at a tattoo on my neck, “you shouldn’t judge a person.
Half of my appearance is to purposely give that impression to people. It’s called defence.”
I know all too well about playing a role that isn’t real. You don’t make it out on the streets without some kind of fake persona to keep others away, so yes, Aspen made herself even more perfect.
“Sorry.” Words spoken so infrequently over the years, if ever. “If we’re judging by appearance, what’s your take on me?”
More of that pink fades away as her eyes take an almost comical dive towards the cuffs that prevent me from reaching any farther than the middle of the table.
“You give so little away in your letters, so it’s kinda hard to answer, but knowing what I do…
You’re someone who was handed a shit situation.
You’re never cruel in your letters, only inquisitive.
You seem more interested in my life than talking about yours, which indicates shame.
You assume no one wants to hear it, but I do.
You keep your head down in here because you’re smart and you’re playing the game.
You’re playing every game there is, actually.
You’re resourceful—someone who’d be able to spin anything to come out on top.
Any of that right?” She finishes with a cocky smirk and leans a bit closer.
For the first time in a while, I laugh. Loud enough to gain the attention of nearby tables and a sharp warning from Bennett, but I can’t help myself.
Not only did this woman nail the truth, she did so without a sign of fear.
Without caring about the consequences of what that ramble could eventually lead to.
This is why, as my laughter fades, I throw her a smirk—one that’s a bit wolfish, a bit cocky, but full of malice too. “That psych degree of yours is paying off. Good job.”
Something flares in her gaze with the compliment. A gentle fire I make note to stoke at the next chance.
For now, before I focus entirely on that, I add, “Hard to say all that when you have no idea what I did to get thrown in here.”
“You’re not a violent offender; you wouldn’t be allowed to be this close to me. You probably fucked up and got caught along the way, but it might have been an honest mistake.”
It was a mistake getting caught, yeah, but she’s right about not being a violent offender. At least, the law didn’t catch me on charges of violence. It doesn’t say my hands are bloodless, though. Stained, although fading after years in this place.
“So anyway,” she continues breezily, cocking her chin so her hair falls farther down her back, “that’s why I became a pen pal. I’m not scared of you, even if you want me to be.”
She’s right.
“Everyone needs a smile now and again, and I’ve come to provide.”
Oh, Aspen, if only you knew what your smiles have created. What my fixations make me capable of…
“Am I the only one you’re writing to?” I better fucking be. Her words are for me and me alone, and I’ll kill any other fucker.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
We end up in a stare off, which she easily crumbles with a huff. “Do you get visitors often?”
“Never.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I prefer it.”
“Sorry for dragging you from bed then.” She winks, teasing, and her playfulness after such a short time in my presence makes my jumper get tight around my groin area. It didn’t take her long to lose the nerves, which is appreciated.
My hand slides across the table, getting as close to her as the cuffs allow for.
“Apology not accepted. Seeing you will keep me going for a while. Your letters make the days pass easier.” Glancing at the clock pulls a bitter sigh from me.
“Fifteen minutes left. I want to hear more about you. Tell me what a day at work is like.”
And so she does, losing herself to her story.
The sun seeps in from the grated window to our right, hitting the blonde streaks of her hair in a way that makes me long to see her bathed fully in the sunlight.
Maybe now that we’ve met, she’ll send me that picture.
Maybe it’ll be of her in the summertime.
The longer she’s in front of me, the more the hunger in my gut demands I learn everything about Aspen.
Every. Thing. Not all the shit she’s put in her letters, but the rest. The way her heart quickens with desire, the stilted way she breathes after an orgasm, and the way she looks with her head thrown back.
How pink her skin would be afterwards, flushed from coming, and the way it’ll so easily bruise beneath my teeth.
The lines on her wrists after untying her from the ropes that’ll keep her down and still for my tongue and how a simple compliment will send her right over the edge.
Eventually, a guard announces visitation has come to an end, and my stomach lurches when she moves to stand. Hair falls, blocking her face in the remaining dredges of time I have with her. An instinctual snap of my wrists as I reach for her reminds me of the cruelty cuffed to my skin.
All around us, duos are saying their goodbyes, and the visitors are making their way to the door—some reluctantly. Aspen stands, revealing what the metal table blocked from view.
Her shirt isn’t a shirt at all, but a dress.
One that’s tight against her waist before flaring into a skirt shorter than the prison typically permits visitors to wear.
The sleeves are long, and the neckline modest, but the peek of her legs, even covered in black tights, undoes me.
Late nights just got a whole lot better, even if I have no right to be fantasizing about a woman as young as she is.
Jesus fucking Christ.
This girl walks into a room full of hungry men—men who haven’t fucked in years—wearing a goddamn dress. I take back every comment about her being smart. She’s fucking stupid, dressed up in a death wish.
“Bye, Cade. It was nice to formally meet you.”
Before she makes it a full step away, I move, driven by the early stages of my craving. Stuck to the table, I can only go so far but manage to stretch a leg to block her path.
In my peripheral vision, Bennett moves closer, but Aspen’s wave stops him. She should have taken his protection—maybe then I would have let her go. She didn’t. She agreed to stay, staring down with eyes as big as the fucking planet, and seals her fate by not immediately running.
“Come back another time.”
She glances from me to the door, where the others are still exiting, and back again. Her tongue swipes over her bottom lip, adding another fantasy to the many she’s granted me today. “I’ll try,” she whispers.
I reluctantly slide my leg backward so she can run off.
I may have frightened my new obsession away forever, but not saying anything wasn’t happening.
Her floral scent lingers, her face swimming in my vision even as she’s leaving.
Those fucking thighs, her hips, her goddamn angelic face mixed with the menace of a demon.
And of course, those lips. Full and kissable.
A voice that’ll soon be crying in pleasure within my dreams.
She once asked me if I dream. I said no. That’s about to change.
As she disappears out the door, I’m not the only one who watches her go. My veins ice, and I slap the table to draw his attention to me rather than Aspen.
Asshole’s been a pain in my ass both here and out on the streets. His crew still roams, and with his connections, my request for Aspen to return could become a possible mistake.
She may be mine, but he can’t know that.
The sun bounces off the skin of his receding hairline as he swipes a thumb over his bottom lip and turns to face me directly. “Pretty little thing, isn’t she? Wherever did you find her?”
“Erase her from your fuckin’ mind, Gunnar, or I’ll do it for you.”
Bennett heaves down on my shoulder, ending my fruitless attempt to get across the room to the asshole and shove my fist in his face.
Thankfully, Gunnar’s in a different cell block, so I won’t have to listen to him, but the fact that I stupidly walked Aspen into visitation—where he almost always has someone come—means I’ve put a target on the girl’s head.
As Bennett undoes my cuffs to line me up to be returned, I slide Aspen’s card beneath my jumper for safekeeping. The scent of lilies lingers.
She brings cards to convicted felons she’s never met before. Writes friendly letters and taunts them in person.
She’s fucking perfect.
Now, to figure out a way to prove that to her.