Chapter 59
Fifty-Nine
SEBA
Blue and purple lights strobe across a mob of bodies undulating to the beat of that awful robot-moaning music Cade loves.
Every step deeper into this rundown college club reminds me why I never go to these kinds of places.
My boots are sticking to the floor. It smells like Dad after a bender— vomit and vodka.
There’s only one accessible exit. I can’t hear myself think. People are staring.
Nothing about this seems fun.
But here we are.
As soon as I finished work, I rushed over to make Cade dinner, but rather than enter a quiet kitchen, I walked into a full-blown battle. This round? Cade versus his dad.
“I’m not a fucking child!” Cade shouts.
Declan slams his fist on the counter. “You are MY child.”
“Good to know you remember that now,” my stepbrother seethes. “Would’ve been helpful when Mom starved me and tried drowning me repeatedly in the fucking bathtub.”
Oh shit.
Declan opens his mouth— probably to deny or make excuses— but I don’t care. He made my baby upset enough to bring up his mother.
“What’s going on?” I ask, moving toward Cade, who assesses me intently.
Declan sighs. “He wants to meet this girl—”
“My girlfriend,” Cade interrupts. Then directly to me, “Andrea.”
I barely manage to school my shock. He’s never called her that before.
“There’s no way you already have—” Declan starts.
“Where?” I ask Cade.
His eyes narrow. “The Landing.”
She invited him to a club? Figures. The two of them are reckless and impulsive. Andrea has been quite the party girl during her years at FMU.
“Alright.”
Declan gapes at me. “Excuse me?”
“He’s twenty-two years old,” I snap, “And before you say he’s not fit to go out on his own, I’ll remind you that he completed his program and passed the assessment.” I sigh, leveling with my stepfather. “He’s already missed out on enough. Let him have this.”
He looks at his son.
Cade says nothing.
His shoulders slump. “Fine. But you’re going with him.”
Safe to say, Cade was pissed. He bitched the entire drive about not needing a babysitter. How I should’ve just given him my keys— yeah, right— or at least dropped him off. I didn’t bother arguing. He’s well aware that he wouldn’t even be standing in this shithole if I hadn’t intervened.
Cade tugs on my hand.
“You’re crushing my fingers.”
Technically, I don’t need to hold his hand. I know that. And I know it could get back to Sinclair, but when we got out of the truck, I could tell he was nervous. Overwhelmed. Definitely out of his element. And maybe I was too. So I impulsively did it. He’s the one who laced our fingers.
I loosen my grip. “Sorry… I just… don’t like crowds.”
He peers up at me like I’m a puzzle he’s intent on figuring out. Fuck, my life would be complete if he’d just look at me like that forever. I’m dying to kiss him. It’s pretty dark in here. And I have a hat on. I doubt any of the pastor’s followers are here…
“I don’t either,” he admits, checking his phone again before glancing at the people packed like sardines around the bar. “But a drink sounds pretty fucking good right now.”
“Doesn’t alcohol fuck with your meds?”
He shrugs. “Don’t know. Probably.”
God, I hope I don’t regret this.
“Alright, but I’ve got three rules: No puking in the truck, no blacking out and no fighting.”
A hint of a smirk. “What if the fight is with you?”
Jesus fucking Christ.
“Don’t push me, Heathen.”
His shoulder bumps mine. “Oops. Pushed you.”
Is he… flirting? I think he’s flirting. And he’s still holding my hand. It’s making me feel drunk without a sip of alcohol. Shaking my head, I smile. “Come on, Troublemaker, let’s get you a cocktail.”
“Really? A cocktail?”
“That’s what they’re called.”
“For all you know, I want a beer.” He bumps my shoulder again. “I think you just wanted to say cock.”
My cheeks hurt from grinning. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His penetrating stare burns a path down the length of me, coming to rest on the half-hard bulge in my jeans.
He clicks his tongue. “You and your lies.”
I bend to his ear. “I’ll tell you a truth…”
An asteroid in the shape of Andrea slams into me, but instead of knocking me aside, all she succeeds in doing is wedging herself between us. I haven’t been this close to her in years.
Well. Now I’m fully hard.
“You're here!” She exclaims, grasping Cade’s waist. Her gaze rakes down him. “Look at you in this slutty little outfit.”
Oh yes. His outfit. The reason my dick has been chubbed for the last forty minutes. Baggy jeans ride low on his narrow hips, the exposed hot pink band of his underwear, while a tight black, cropped tee leaves enough skin on display to make my mouth water.
Not that Andrea is helping my situation either.
A mini dress clings to her hourglass figure like a second skin, ending a hair below the curve of her ass. But it’s the back— or lack thereof—that really does me in. Following the line of her spine is a delicate floral tattoo.
Orange blossoms.
I’m disintegrating beneath the surface. Dying a slow agonizing death day by day.
Hour by hour. Minute by minute. Words left unsaid echo off the barren halls of my heart.
She’s been right here, in front of me, for years, but always just out of reach.
So many times, I prayed to move on; it would hurt less than longing for her. But God doesn’t answer the damned.
My knuckle hovers above her inked skin.
My breath hitches.
I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t.
The weight of Cade’s stare burns into me. I glance up. It’s that look again.
Andrea twists to throw a scowl at me. “Oh. You."
My hand falls. I can smell the tequila on her breath from here. Her eyes are unfocused beyond alcohol. Something is off. I’m not the only one who notices. Cade tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, regaining her attention.
“What’s going on?”
A sardonic laugh gusts out of her. “Oh, nothing. I'm just getting burned alive from the inside by hellfire. It’s fine. Totally fine. Know why? ‘Cause according to the lab results, I’m completely imagining it!”
Pain. That’s what I’ve been seeing in her dark, glassy eyes. It slams into my chest like an anvil.
“Lab results?” I ask.
“Don’t act like you give a shit,” she snaps.
I know the way this goes. If she’d just let me apologize— let me explain— then, maybe she’d end this one-sided war.
“It’s not an act.”
She ignores me.
Every time she does, it cuts a little deeper.
“It doesn’t matter,” she scoffs, grabbing Cade by the wrist. “Let’s dance.”
He digs his heels in. “Not so fast, church girl.”
She tries dragging him. It doesn’t work. Her lip twitches in irritation. “Come on.”
Cade stands firm. Her anger turns to me. “Did you threaten him or something?”
“This has nothing to do with him,” Cade cuts in. Then sighs, “You’re sloshed.”
“So?”
“So, you’re obviously hurting and—”
“I’m always fucking hurting!” Her voice slices through the music like a serrated blade. She tears away, tilts her head back and inhales deeply. “Sorry. I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t have to be.”
I expect her to explode or, at the very least, ignore me again. What I don’t expect is for her to gape at me like it’s the first time she’s ever heard me speak.
And time stops. Just like it does every time Andrea Sinclair gives me her attention. I’m hyperaware of everything— down to the muscles stretching around my bones, the pressure on each joint, the weight of this unintended secret pushing me to the point of breaking.
Cade takes advantage of her pause and hooks an arm around her waist. He locks eyes with me over her head and tips his chin at the exit.
I don’t need it spelled out.
Once she realizes where we’re going, she wakes up from the trance.
“I’m fine! You two crab-apples don’t know how to have a good time!”
“Oh, we know how to have a good time, church girl,” Cade snickers. My brows lift. Did he just insinuate what I think he did?
She trips over her platform boots as we exit the club. The alcohol has to be catching up with her. “You stale ham sandwiches are killing my vibe and I’ve McFuckin had it!”
I bite back a laugh. Cade chuckles, “That’s a new one.”
She smacks his stomach. He bows forward. “Easy. I’m not a tree trunk of solid muscle like this douche,” he coughs, nodding at me.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Andrea scowls. “Stop flirting with each other.”
“Who said we were flirting?” Cade asks.
She squints at him. “I’m drunk, not stupid.”
The second I pull my keys out, she reacts like a feral cat getting forced into a carrier.
“Oh hell no! You’re not kidnapping me!”
The security guard glances our way.
She notices.
“HELP!”
Fucking lovely.
Cade groans, wrestling her hand into his. “And people say I’m a menace.”
“You are,” I point out.
He scowls. “Not helping.”
I throw my hands up. “She’s your girlfriend.”
His scowl deepens. “Our girlfriend, dickhead.”
Oh?
“I am NOT his girlfriend,” Andrea seethes.
That’s more like it.
“Everything alright over here?” asks the dude in a security t-shirt.
“NO!” Andrea shrieks at the same time Cade and I sigh, “Yeah.”
His lips flatten into a line. “I’m gonna need you to release her,” he says to my stepbrother, whose patience is already riding a fine line. I’m so attuned to him, I can feel the shift before seeing it. If I don’t intervene now, this night is gonna end at the police station.
“We’re all good,” I tell the guard as I tug Cade toward me, murmuring in his ear. “Let her go.”
Panic floods his eyes.
“Just for a second, baby.”
Andrea glares up at Cade. “You’re gonna choose him?”
His lip curls into a snarl, his hand shooting to her jaw. “No. We’re not doing that. We’ve never done that. Not us. We don’t make each other choose.”
A black tear tracks down her cheek. “He did. He chose Sinclair over us.”
If only you knew how wrong you are.
“Did I?”
Both of them have that look now— like they’re finally starting to question what they’ve convinced themselves is the truth. It should feel like victory; it just feels like time lost.
“I don’t wanna fight you, sweetheart.”
“Bullshit,” she hisses.
Exhaustion seeps from every one of my pores.
“I never have, but you haven’t given me any other option. I know you’re hurt by what you think I’ve done. And I get how it looks— Really, I do. I…” My voice cracks. She sways on her feet. I clear my throat. “I can’t do this while you’re drunk.”
She lunges at me, mascara bleeding from her wet eyes. “So full of shit! And you want me to go with you? Fuck you!”
My throat aches. Memories cloud my mind. Beer cans and accusations and slurred words. A crumpled car. A broken windshield. Not her. She can’t end up like him.
“Can you just promise me that you won’t get behind the wheel?” I beg.
“I’m not that—”
“Don’t,” Cade growls.
She shoves him. “I was gonna say I’m not that stupid.”
He’s fuming. She’s wasted. This is going nowhere. I take out my phone and order her a ride while she argues with Cade some more. There’s one a minute away. Perfect. I’m only half paying attention to them when I hear—
“Goddammit, Drea, he’s just making sure you don’t die like his fucking dad!”
My head whips up to see Andrea stumble back as if struck. Cade catches her wrist before she falls on her ass. Her face is paper white, eyes vacant of anything but pain. Emotional. Physical. It’s all the same.
Tires crunch on pavement. A sedan approaches, the window rolling down to reveal the woman pictured on my ride share app.
“Sebastian?”
Nodding, I step off the curb and open the passenger door. “Get in, sweetheart.”
On stiff legs, Andrea parts from Cade, pausing before letting go of his hand. “I’m sorry I’m not the same girl you fell for.”
Fuck. My heart can’t take much more.
He closes the space between them, trying to kiss her. She turns her head. The sting ricochets through him into me. But instead of releasing her, he holds on tighter.
“I fell for the girl under the mask. I know she’s still in there… just trapped in a different kind of cage.”
Her bottom lip quivers.
He strokes it with his thumb. “Text me when you get home.”
She nods.
This time, when he brushes his lips over hers, she kisses him back, whispering, “I’m sorry… I fucked up… I’m sorry…”
My hand rolls into a fist. I want to wipe away her tears.
Promise that she doesn’t have to be sorry.
Tell her I understand. I’ve been under her father’s thumb for only a fraction of the time she was— I understand.
It makes me physically ill to stand here, doing nothing, but I let Cade comfort her, guide her into the car and close the door.
Side by side, we watch the taillights until the car turns the corner.
“You’re not loyal to Sinclair, are you?”
I shake my head.
He nods.
Knuckles knock against the back of my hand. My finger tentatively curls around his.
“Let’s get out of here.”
Let’s. As in together.
“Where do you wanna go?” I ask.
Blue and honey eyes meet mine. I could drown in them.
“Anywhere but home.”