Chapter 40
Forty
SEBA
Dust stings my eyes as I plop another heavy box labeled “Camp Christ” onto the dank carpet of the chapel storage room.
When I took this job, I didn’t expect to be doing manual labor.
Or to be instructed over the phone to unload a truck full of boxes after hours.
Boxes that I have been strictly prohibited from opening.
As tempting as it is, I’m not jeopardizing my job on day one.
Although I am curious. Maybe a little weary too. Whatever is packed inside weighs a fuckton. My back and arms are aching. Sweat soaks my clothes. I’m getting chewed up by mosquitoes every time I step outside. I’ve been doing this for at least an hour and I’m ready to get the fuck out of here.
I almost ignored the call. Mom and Declan had burst into the house first thing this morning, launching me into full-blown panic mode because my stepbrother was snoring peacefully in my bed naked.
Thankfully, I didn't have to explain anything to our parents (Christ almighty) since they didn’t come upstairs while I was scooping up Cade and depositing him in his bomb site of a bedroom.
There was no time to discuss what we did last night or how we’re moving forward, but I know he feels it too— this monumental shift between us.
There’s no ignoring it. No turning back.
And it fucking terrifies me because no matter which way I spin it, I lose.
It’s either my church, my new job, my family, any chance with Andrea, possibly even my spot on the FMU team, or I lose him.
The even scarier part?
Losing him might kill me.
So yeah, I took the call as a scapegoat to figure my shit out.
It’s not going so well.
My phone chirps and my heart leaps. Then drops into my ass when I open it.
Andrea:
I need your help. It’s Cade. Something’s wrong.
I don’t even bother typing a response.
She picks up on the second ring.
“Where is he?”
A sigh. “With me. He’s… kinda in and out.”
I’m already booking it for the exit. “I’m on my way.”
“No!” She yelps. “You can’t come here— my dad— it’s bad enough I snuck Cade in.”
No matter how much I try to ignore it, a drop of jealousy sours my tongue. “You do that often?”
“Save the possessive shit, Caveman,” she grumbles. “Unlock the door or open the garage for us in a few minutes.”
“I’m not home.” There’s a long pause. I check to make sure the call didn’t drop. “You still there, sweetheart?”
“I’m here. Just silently cursing you.”
Somehow, this girl has me fighting a grin in the midst of a crisis. Fuck me.
“So where are you?” she asks.
I glance around the crowded storage room. “St. Gemmas.”
“And what in the fresh hell are you doing there?” Oh, she's still royally pissed. I cringe, my shoulders tensing defensively.
“Doesn’t matter, I’m—”
A muffled male voice tickles my ear through the speaker. I strain to hear.
“I mean, we can but… he’s at church,” Andrea says carefully— not to me.
“Let me talk to him,” I demand. It’s a visceral need at this point.
Rustling. A murmured, “It’s Seba.” More rustling.
“Hi.”
A sigh whooshes out of me. “Hey, Troublemaker. You ok?”
“Am I ever?”
I smile despite the anxiety eating me alive. “Fair enough.” Dropping to a squat, I run a hand through my damp hair. “Is… she bothering you?”
“Um… only a little,” he admits, almost shyly. “She doesn’t like that I’m with Andrea right now. But at home she’s louder, even in your room.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Ok, ok,” I mutter. “I’m almost finished here—” I’m not, but I’ll drop what I’m doing and head straight to him regardless of the consequences. “And then I’ll come get you so we can talk with Declan.”
“No.”
Christ. “Why not?”
“He didn’t protect me from her back then, so what's gonna make him do it now?”
Back then?
“Cade, he has to know.”
A sardonic laugh. “Oh, I'm sure he knows.”
“You told him?” It’s more accusatory than intended. But not at him. My rage is pointed squarely at his father.
“He was there.”
Goddammit, he’s not making any fucking sense. I massage my eyes with my pointer and thumb. The last thing I need is for him to get agitated. “Alright. We’ll hold off for now, but we gotta talk to him soon.”
He’s quiet. I hate that I can’t see him.
“Talk to me, baby,” I murmur.
“I…” Another pause. “I need you.”
Those words are dangerous. They unleash a host of emotions I’ve been intent on ignoring. But in this moment, the urge to care for him— for both of them— is too strong.
“Put our girl back on.”
Crackling and mumbling. “Our girl, huh?” Andrea asks. Of course, she heard; she’s right next to him. She doesn’t sound annoyed. Actually, she sounds pretty fucking smug. My stomach swoops. I brace for shame to swallow me whole, but it never does. Instead, I’m kind of… relieved.
“Park around back. I’m in the Chapel storage room. Text me when you get here and for the love of all things holy, do not let him behind the wheel. You take his keys and you drive, got it?”
“Sir, yes, sir,” she drawls.
My damned dick stirs.
“Don’t start with me, baby girl,” I warn.
“Don’t start with me, Mr. Doesn’t-fucking-listen-for-shit.”
I roll my lips, unsure whether to argue or laugh. “Just get your asses over here.”
“Yeah, yeah, see you soon, Traitor.”
“If I’m such a traitor—”
“Byyye.” And click.
Shaking my head at my phone, I groan, “Oh, to hell with me.”