44. Caden
Caden
At thirty two years old, I thought I’d know myself better. But all I know is I bulldoze relationships.
I stare at the message typed out on my phone.
Caden: I need to come into the shop but will wait until Saturday. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.
Fia reads it immediately but doesn’t reply.
She’s moving out today—according to Eddie. Fia didn’t tell me, but he did. It’s a slap in the face, one I might deserve.
It’s beautiful outside, a breeze breaking up the humid air, and I’m growing irrationally annoyed at myself. There are only so many days you can spend sulking inside, avoiding lingering eyes, or the girl whose heart you broke. Broken nose, black eye and all, I need to talk to her. Face-to-face.
“Fuck it,” I mutter, shoving the kitchen barstool back, and head towards the sliding doors. Her little gold car sits in the driveway; she hasn’t left yet.
Sunglasses hurt to wear on my nose, so I shield my eyes with my hand, squinting against the sun that I haven’t seen in days to no fault but my own. The sky is almost too blue, the sun too happy. Like it’s mocking me. Maybe I should be embarrassed by the level of stubble on my face, but I trudge on.
A car I don’t recognize pulls into the driveway, and I stop halfway across the stone path.
The same guy I’ve seen before—her sister's boyfriend, Jesse—steps out.
“Hey.” He lifts his head, coming around the flowering bushes to greet me. My body is blocking the path to the guesthouse, so it’s not like he has a choice. I can see the current state of my face gives him pause, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Assuming you’re here to see Fia,” I state, pissed at my poor timing.
“Yep, here to move her out.”
This is all wrong. I should be the one helping her move.
“Right.” I finally break the awkward silence as his gaze lingers over my shoulder towards the guesthouse.
“I can help—”
Jesse holds up a hand. “It’s all good, man. I got it.”
“I just need a moment,” I say sharply, ready to shove him out of the way, charge in there, and talk to her.
He steps around me, shaking his head. “I don’t think now is the right time. Fia’s pretty stressed as it is.”
The guesthouse door opens with a small woosh, and I spin so fast my head pulses, eyes landing on her. Fia’s in the doorway, darkened by a shadow, and she looks between us.
“Fia, I just need to talk. It won’t take long,” I call out, but she continues to grip the doorknob, unmoving.
Her brows pull low, eyes on my face. But she doesn’t say anything about the injury, she just shakes her head once. No.
“Now isn’t the time,” she says steadily, and Jesse walks past me.
Fia lets him in, turning to shut the door.
“Please, one minute!” I ask, my head throbbing.
She pauses, half in the doorway, and her eyes lift to mine.
“I left cash under your doormat. It’s my first payment,” she says, then she shuts the door quietly, leaving me standing there.
I clench my jaw, huff out a painful breath, and turn to walk right back into my dark, quiet, empty house because as much as I want to scream, I can’t chase her right now.