Chapter 34Cade
Cade
I turn my wrench to the left, loosening the last bolt of the fender. The whoosh of the sliding door bounces my gaze briefly, and I catch Olivia walking down the stone steps.
Even under an overcast sky, she sparkles just as bright as she always does.
“Were my directions to the bathroom sufficient?” I tease, returning my concentration to the swingarm.
“Superb,” she quips.
I flash her a smirk, pointing behind me to one of the Adirondack chairs around the fieldstone fire pit. “You can sit. Don’t feel the need to stand up.”
Her palms rest on her lower back as she looks over at the set up. “I’m okay, thank you.”
My grin stretches before I locate the adjusters, my wrench tightening and relaxing them until I perfect the chain tension.
“Did you build this?”
Olivia’s voice darts my head in her direction. Her white sneaker is toeing a large rock around the fire pit, long blonde hair spilling halfway down her back in soft curls. “Yeah. About a year ago,” I answer.
“You’re just a jack of all trades, huh?” she coaxes, rounding the circle of rocks.
I sink my teeth in my bottom lip, redirecting my eyes to the rear wheel of my motorcycle. “I pride myself on what I can do.” My palm lays on the rubber of the tire, spinning it in the stand. “But when I do something, I’d like to think I do it well.”
When the wheel rotates smoothly, I lift myself from my bended knee, only to walk the few steps to the toolbox. I sift through it, retrieving a socket before standing and pinning her with a suggestive stare. “How’s that theory holding up for you so far?”
Olivia’s cheeks flush, her knuckles greeting her mouth just as she pivots her head away from me. If I wasn’t wearing latex gloves and picking apart my motorcycle right now, I’d wrap her legs around my waist and fuck that shyness right out of her.
I never want her to hide from me.
But one thing at a time.
My jean-clad knee digs into the grass again, and I pick up the discarded fender to position over the bike chain.
“You have a white feather on your bike.”
I work the socket over the bolts to fasten the metal in place, my arm slowing down when her question filters to my brain.
I’ve never spoken out loud about it. Not even to Jenna. I guess I always considered the feather a silent understanding between us . Just me and her . There was never a need to involve anyone else or make them aware of it.
“Yeah,” I simply state, tightening the last two bolts to the white fender. “I received it as a gift.”
My abdomen tenses, silence saturating the air between us when Olivia doesn’t respond right away. I’m sure she’s wondering why my answer is so stiff, and as much as I don’t want to get into every detail right now, I know she deserves more substance from me.
I suck in a breath, backing away from my bike to rise to my feet. “The woman I helped out…” My explanation fades when I drop my tools in the chest. “She gave it to me.”
Metal clashes, and my body pivots to meet her patient mint eyes. I offer her a kind smile, peeling my gloves and snapback off when her chin bobs once.
“The white feather falls from the wings of a guardian angel,” she says, her eyes locked on the item in question.
A crooked smile emerges from my lips as I shrug and say, “I guess I’m in the minority.” I drop my gloves on the ground and hat on the toolbox, scrubbing a hand through my hair after. “I didn’t know what a white feather meant until I was given one,” I explain.
Needing to keep myself moving, because of the conversation and weather, I turn to grab the full cover off the ground. I fan out the polyester, beginning to walk with it as I sheath my motorcycle from the impending rain.
“I never told you the story of my attack.”
My throat rolls, dread weighing in my gut as I speed up the motions of my arms and legs.
I’m not entirely sure I can remain sane while Olivia recalls specific details of her assault.
There’s a great chance that after she recounts it, I’m going to harass the police department or scope out the town it occurred in to castrate this motherfucker.
Once I cloak the entire bike, I’m walking over to her. “Hey, you don’t need to relive it, okay? I didn’t mea—”
“I wear an ankle bracelet every day,” she blurts.
My boots pause in their tracks a few inches away from her, eyes roaming over her void gaze.
The gloomy sky bounces off her stare, muting that beautiful green I’ve fallen head over heels for.
Her full lips flatline, face taut as she gulps through a tight lump.
“I’ve been wearing it almost every day since I was attacked. ”
She wants to talk about this.
My brows slightly crease, and I offer her a nod of encouragement.
If she needs to vent to help herself fully heal, my ears are all hers.
It’s not a question anymore. “Okay,” I tread lightly.
Her chin dips, both hands wrestling at the waistline of her high-rise jeans.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m understanding,” I confess.
“I wear it because it reminds me of the person who helped me out of that situation.” Her shoulders rise with a staggered inhale. “When I wear it, I feel protected. Like they’re with me and they’re always going to keep me safe no matter what.”
I lower my head gently, trying to pull her eyes back to me. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
She exhausts a long breath before raising her gaze to mine, turmoil swirling behind her glossy lenses. And then she’s digging into her jeans pocket as she takes a couple steps toward me. “Is it by accident that two people meet for the first time twice?”
I blink, my mind rewinding to our date at the coffee shop and her Post-it note. The same uproar woven in her eyes reaches my stomach, an unexpected tornado whirling on cue. “Olivia, I’m not und—”
I’m cut off when her soft fingers land on my hand, lifting it to turn my palm up between us. Her closed fist drops a tiny trinket in it, and then she’s folding my fingers over to hide the identity.
A couple rain droplets pelt the top of my head, only for another to splatter on my closed fist. I look into Olivia’s eyes, her gaze clouded with tears that are a breath away from sliding down her cheeks.
My mouth parts to speak, but she’s already spinning around and walking away. Her walk transforms to a gentle jog, and the tent in my stomach practically stabs me now.
I peer down at my cupped hand, unfolding my fingers to reveal the hidden object inside.
My ring.
The rain droplets fall faster, splashing on my open palm as I stare at the jewelry in a trance. For a moment, I think she took my ring from me when I wasn’t paying attention, only to realize mine is still wrapped around my middle finger.
“What the …?” I whisper, plucking the ring from my palm.
It’s looped around a thin, silver chain, and I hold it up between my fingers. I turn the metal wings between them, each rotation connecting another piece of the puzzle. Until the engraving on the inside of the stainless-steel band rears its head.
And the last section of the jigsaw finally falls into place.
Fly Back to Me
I barely swallow as a light begins to shine on the truth.
Revealing it ray by ray.
The white feather. The anklet. My metal ring with the same message she wrote the first day I met her.
My blood runs cold, shock pooling into my system and chaining me in place.
That wasn’t the first day I met her.
My eyes latch shut, pinching painfully before glancing in the direction Olivia went. The crystal beads of water dive downward, the momentum fueling my rapid heartbeat as a fresh reality is unveiled.
The parking lot. The cry for help. The dumpster.
Buried images whirl like a cyclone in my mind, my pulse spinning with the ferocity when I recall her blonde hair. Her long legs.
Her grip.
A cap gun fires off, my legs darting across the sodden grass to round the side of the house.
Until my boots abruptly halt.
And there she is.
Her back leans against my house, palms flat on the siding behind her hips. Those champagne locks dampen around her face, her tight blouse and baggy jeans soaking with the weight of the plunging droplets.
My eyes find hers, that familiar bright green spearing through the rain. Like my quick return pumped the color back into them.
The same way this woman has trickled color into my dark world.
Ever since I read her letter.
Ever since then.
Holy shit.
All of our layers are stripped as the water droplets rhythmically patter between us.
Every inch of us exposed to each other, down to the very souls we’re wearing on our sleeves.
And even though the lines of rain create a barrier before her, my vision is clearer now than if today was the brightest and sunniest day.
Olivia’s uncloaked to me.
Standing there with her invisible wings.
My guardian angel.
She’s the one.
I hold up the ring, my chest caving as my lungs falter, and I shout over the whisper of the rain. “You wrote this that day I met you! You wrote this!” My tattered breaths tumble from me, hand trembling as the revelation wracks my body.
Olivia shakes her head as she yells over the shower.
“I had no idea it was you!” Her feminine curves protrude through her soaked clothes, those curtain bangs pasted to her temples as she remains glued to the siding.
“I had no idea you came back to me that day. It wasn’t until I saw the feather that night I left the brewery,” she pleads.
My bottom lip quakes, recounting that Sunday when she visited me to make amends.
That’s why.
I swallow thickly, the anklet slipping from my fingers before I comb my hands through my hair. “Holy shit,” I breathe, turning to the side. “Holy fucking shit.”
Out of the corner of my eye, Olivia beelines to the fence. On instinct, I turn to lunge after her, grabbing her upper arm to spin her around.
“I don’t want to be a victim!” she shouts, yanking herself from my grip. Her arms snap in the air, guilt and sadness contorting her facial features. “Especially not to you! I’m looking into your eyes now, and I can tell that’s all you see!”
My pulse spikes as I shake my head, stabbing a finger in her direction. “You’re not going to turn this around on me, Olivia!”
“Then go ahead! Hate me!” She swivels around, sliding up to the door of the fence and lifting on her tiptoes.
Like a goddamn spider monkey, she hooks her hands over the frame, desperately clawing at the lever.
But when she fails to unlatch the lock on the other side, a grunt escapes her as she drops to her heels.
“I want to leave!” Her closed fists bang on the gate, the rattling of the PVC booming against the rain. “Goddammit, let me out!”
I stealthily tread toward her, the magnetic force just as compelling as it was on the other side of that dumpster. My chest melts to her back, and I catch her flying fists before she inflicts permanent damage on her beautiful skin.
Our wet and fused hands plant on the fence, my stiff chest thawing as she slumps beneath me. An umbrella of rain swallows us, the droplets hitting the PVC and our skin, but the only sound that echoes is the crashing of our souls.
In this moment, we’re two people who become one .
Her body rocks with sobs in my embrace. Muffled cries that have haunted me ever since I wished I could’ve held her. Ever since I dreamed of the woman they belonged to.
My eyes scrunch, heart racing as images of the woman curled on the blacktop burst in my head. I’m transported back to that desolate parking lot, witnessing those wobbly fingers holding onto mine for a lifeline.
I channel the grip from memory, my wet fingers crushing between hers. Trapping her here with me before we sever ways again.
Not again.
Never again.
“You saved my life, but you didn’t want to know me,” she breathes harshly, pain lining her throat as she upchucks every word. “But I needed to know you.”
My breathing labors as my slippery fingers weave through hers. And the more honesty she sheds, the more lured in I become.
Inspired by her determination to find me.
She called for me that day in the coffee shop, and I answered her.
I fucking answered her.
I may have been the one who rescued her, but she’ll always be the one who saved me .
Whether I wanted it or not, Olivia gave us a story that allowed us both to heal.
Lean on each other. Learn from one another.
A story that encouraged me to open my heart again and restore my faith in all I thought I had lost.
Maybe I soared into her life with wings, but she handed them back to me when I forgot they were there. When I lost the will to fly.
Maybe I brought her protection in a single moment, but she gifts me salvation every fucking day.
So, the answer to the pivotal question is no .
Two people don’t meet twice for the first time by accident.
It’s not coincidence, it’s not happenstance, and it’s not serendipity.
It’s destiny.
And I’m going to seize mine.
At least for now.