Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
ANDREA
This is punishment. It’s the only conclusion I can draw as I pace the confines of my room, reeling from the revelations of last night.
Seba joining the church leadership is one thing, but his relationship with Cade?
I’m an idiot for not putting the pieces together.
My ignorance pisses me off more than their secret.
What’s even stranger is I don’t want to come between them.
But I can’t just be friends with them either. I want them both too much.
Which is exactly why I'm acting on this insane idea.
I stare at the message I’ve typed and re-typed at least fifty times. It’s probably all for nothing. Cade hasn’t answered any of my other texts this week. Hopefully, he doesn’t ignore me this time.
We need to talk.
Alone.
I stare at the screen until the two check marks appear. Typing bubbles dance in the bottom corner. My heart stops.
Cade:
Open your window in 5
Holy. Shit.
He responded.
I rush to the window, kneeling on the velvet cushion to unlatch it. I’m a jittery mess. Time drags on. Glancing at the ancient alarm clock on my nightstand, I see it’s been approximately two minutes.
Two taps on the glass.
Whipping around, I come face to face with Cade: cheeks flushed, eyes wide and grinning. He looks a little deranged and utterly breathtaking.
“Get in,” I hiss, ushering him into the room. Baggy jeans hang low enough to show the band of his boxers and a faded grey t-shirt stretches across his chest. His head tilts, the little diamond stud in his nose twinkling in the warm light of the frosted glass lamp.
Goddamnit. I get it, Seba.
I launch at him.
He catches me with a surprised laugh. “Missed you too, church girl.”
“Don’t disappear on me again, Dickweed,” I grumble into his chest. There’s a hint of citrus under his usual smoky-sweet scent. Like oranges.
“I won’t if you won’t,” he murmurs.
“Deal.”
There’s a gargantuan pile of questions crowding my mouth. Like, why was he at the psychiatrist's office? Why didn’t he text me back? Why didn’t he confide in me about Seba? Why did he put such terrible ideas in my head? Ideas I’m incapable of ignoring.
His arms circle me, one hand smoothing down my spine while the other cradles the back of my neck. The firm but gentle pressure of his thumb on my pulse makes my heart spasm. I pull back, gazing up at crystal clear blue and molten honey. His pupils blow out like ink drops on paper
Arousal is easy to read.
Rising on my toes, I brush a tentative kiss to the corner of his mouth. It lifts in a smirk.
“If you’re gonna kiss me, do it for real,” he whispers.
He doesn’t need to bait me twice.
Kissing Cade Warren is like entering a gladiatorial arena.
It’s vicious, addictive and wild. I’m grinning as our teeth and tongues battle for dominance.
Fused at the mouth, we stumble to the bed, greedily grabbing and touching.
His hips meet mine the minute I’m pinned to the mattress; the rigid outline of his cock through his jeans sends zips of nervous excitement through me.
The contrast of this kiss to my first kiss with Seba is mind-boggling. With Seba, it was gentle and languid, like I was a precious thing to be cherished– taken apart slowly and reverently. With Cade? It’s aggressive. Chaotic. Passionate and unrestrained.
And it makes it abundantly clear that—
“I need you,” I pant around his tongue. “I need you both.”
He’s smiling and it’s infectious. But it quickly dissolves as his forehead comes to rest on mine. He releases a defeated sigh. “Well, that’s good… ‘cause I can’t give either of you up.”
“Why do you sound sad about that?” I ask, framing his face.
He frowns. “Seba might not understand and… I can’t lose him. I just can’t.”
Nodding, I kiss his nose and smooth my thumbs over his cheeks. I wish it were that simple to wipe away his doubt.
“Then I guess we’ll have to show him how right it is.”
A devious glint flickers in those eyes. He blinks and something strange happens. It’s like he’s… buffering. His gaze goes vacant and unfocused.
“Cade?”
He just stares.
Unease creeps across my scalp. I’m about to shake him—
“It is right.”
The way he says it is almost defensive. He’s still staring past me. Through me. Like he can’t see me at all.
So I kiss him again.
His eyelids flutter and he glances around like he doesn’t know where he is. It’s not a glazed kind of disoriented either— he’s on alert, eyes darting in all directions. Every hair on my body stands on end. Something is wrong. Really wrong.
“Hey,” I murmur, raking silvery hair off his forehead. “You ok?”
He pauses. Then cracks a smile that borders on embarrassed. “Sorry. Sometimes, even when I’m with one of you, she gets too loud.”
What the hell is he talking about? My lips quiver as I force a teasing grin.
“Those pesky voices?”
Relief ripples through him. It stabs my heart.
“You get it.”
I really don’t. But instinct is screaming at me to keep him calm. Keep him talking. Treading carefully so as not to spook him, I continue running my fingers through his hair.
“Does Seba get it too?”
“I think so.”
What Seba said during our fight last night comes back to me. He’s going through something. And here I thought he was bullshitting me. Of course, Seba is honest to a fault.
My stomach tangles into fucking knots.
“What about your friends from before you moved to Fort Manor?”
“What friends?” He scoffs, rolling off me onto his back. “Everyone called me crazy like Mom.”
I’m going to throw up. Or cry. Or both. I curve into his side and hold the hand resting on his stomach. It takes everything in me to hide the tremor in my voice as I whisper, “Fuck ‘em.”
He laughs— it’s beautiful and breaking my heart. Tears threaten to fall. My smile falters. But he doesn’t notice because he’s spaced out again. So I reach for my phone and shoot off an SOS to the only other person who might know what to do.