Chapter 17
CAIDEN
Seeing Amelia unravel like that in my arms really fucking shook me up. It was as if we were right back in that cage, and she was terrified, begging for her life. I should have been her Prince Charming, I should have comforted her.
Instead, I was a fucking asshole, as usual. It’s all I know. I shot her down, and that made everything worse.
Part of me was still upset at the fact that he pushed me away when we were alone in the kitchen, grinding against each other like teenagers.
But I meant what I said.
Hearing it leave my lips surprised me, but I knew that I meant it. I would kill anybody who tried to hurt her like that again. I’ve done it once, when I tore Blake’s flesh apart with his own knife.
She was in my bloodstream; she had been for a long time, and I promised myself I would never allow her to be tortured like that ever again.
I know I tortured her for years, but actually seeing it from an outside perspective, and so much more brutal, it changed me.
I wish I could make her understand that.
“Damn. I’m not doing too well with this.” Shane reeled in his line to change the bait.
We were on the fishing pier, Shane was trying pitifully to catch a fish, while I didn’t care much if I caught one or not. I just liked to be able to sit out here, listening to the whistle of the wind, watching the colors bleed into the sea, lost in the abyss of my head.
"Not many fish out right now, it seems," I muttered, the salty tang of the sea air stinging my nostrils. I watched him wrestle with his line. My own empty line felt heavy and disappointing in my hand.
“I bet all the fish told each other about the dangers of the hook, now they’re all too scared to bite the bait.” Shane chuckled as he spoke, trying to make light of his failed attempts.
My laughter followed, a brittle sound in the air. “I’m sure they did,” I said, the words tasting like ash on my tongue, my voice a flat, hollow thing despite the amusement.
His gaze fell on me, a dark eyebrow arching. "Everything alright? You're awfully distracted on this trip." He looked back towards the sea, adjusting his fishing line.
Shane, bless his heart, was trying to bond by expressing his concern. He still didn’t realize that sometimes, silence is the best language that I know. It’s easier to try and fucking pour my heart out, only to be disregarded like I had been so many times by my father.
But Shane wasn’t my father; I had to keep reminding myself that not everybody was like him.
“It’s a nice trip, don’t get me wrong, but some things have happened between Amelia and me, and I can’t focus on having a good time.” The casual smile I had been maintaining slipped, and a frown replaced it. I was surprised with myself when I heard the honesty in my words.
He nodded slowly, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I have noticed something going on between you two,” he paused and held an amusement glint in his eyes, “It would explain your brooding.”
I scoffed, staring back out at the sea. “Yeah. I guess I am brooding. I was trapped with Amelia in the wilderness, kidnapped by a fucking killer, and now there’s something shifting between us.
My head is a fucking mess when it comes to her.
I grew up hating her, now I’m haunted by her, and obsessed with her. ”
My jaw muscles tightened, a familiar ache settling in my temples as the scoff escaped me. The sea breeze, usually a comfort, felt cold against my skin, mirroring the chill that had settled deep in my bones.
The memory of Amelia brought a rapid fluttering to my pulse, a frantic drumbeat against my ribs. My hands clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms, the physical manifestation of my inner turmoil.
The obsession, a relentless tide, pulled at me, a constant tension in my shoulders, a stiffness in my neck, as if I was bracing myself against something unseen, something inescapable.
“I’m sorry, man. That sounds tough. Have you talked about it with your therapist?”
I shrugged. "Amelia's a tangled web, and I'm not sure I even want to, or know how to unravel it."
“Well, I hope you do figure it out one day. I could see you two together. Despite the past and your issues, I think it could work in time.” Shane tossed me a sympathetic smile.
I carefully considered his words, letting them settle in my mind. Was that even something I desired? Or was it the intoxicating thrill of the chase that drew me in, despite everything else?
The more time I spent with Amelia, the more undeniable it felt, a magnetic pull, an invisible string drawing us into each other's orbit. The stars aligned, bringing us together. It was destiny, but it was also our doom.
“Maybe. I need to figure out this fucking storm in my head before I can even consider that. The thought of it fucking terrifies me.”
Shane continued to focus on his fishing line, but he nodded understandingly. “I can see how it would terrify you. All these new feelings.”
I mindlessly picked at my fingernails as I responded. “Well, truth is, I’ve always felt some kind of pull towards Amelia. I just shoved it so far until the hatred buried it completely, and I convinced myself that she was the enemy.”
A gull cried overhead, its lonely sound echoing the turmoil within me.
Shane finally broke the silence. "Look," he said, his voice low and steady, "hatred's a powerful emotion, but it often masks something deeper.
Maybe you buried that pull, that attraction, because facing it meant confronting your father and his rage, since you told me he forbade you from being her friend. Maybe Amelia did the same thing."
The idea hit me with the force of a rogue wave, a sudden, overwhelming realization. Could she have felt something for me, too? If so, I had destroyed it with my cruelty.
She wasn't brainwashed into hating me; I was the one who ignited the fire between us, forcing her to adapt to the burning intensity.
However, the hatred wasn't entirely fabricated. Years of rivalry and resentment had laid a solid foundation of genuine loathing. But beneath that, something else simmered, something I had always dismissed as merely the passionate heat of rage.
Maybe there was a fine line between the burning intensity of passion and the icy grip of hatred, a line blurred by the passage of time and our constant conflict.
A dangerous, unpredictable current was slowly eroding my dam of self-deception.
"Thanks, Shane," I said, the words a quiet murmur against the backdrop of the ocean's roar.
"No problem, bro," he replied, his voice equally soft.
It was a rare moment of connection, this shared quietude with Shane, my only blood brother – well, half-brother, to be precise. We continued to sit on the weathered wooden bench overlooking the restless sea, our fishing lines patiently dangling in the water, hoping for a bite.
The rhythmic pull of the current mirrored the turmoil churning within me.
The pier filled with the gold-pink haze of late sun, casting strange warps of color across the water and making everything look ghostly, liminal.
My chest ached.
Shane talked about surface shit. How the moon was coming up, how we’d need to get back before dinner, how he wanted to stop by the market for more beer.
I nodded and said nothing, watching the gulls harass a bloated seal carcass that had washed up on the rocks.
I thought about what he’d said, about Amelia. About the possibility that the hatred had been a cover, a mask for a deeper, older hunger. The idea of it terrified me.
There was safety in being the villain, the outcast, the one who would never be loved. If you never expected to be loved, you couldn’t be hurt when it was inevitably withheld.
But the thing about Amelia is, she never stopped haunting me. Even in her absence, she was a ghost, a persistent throb of memory.
Now that we’d been forced together, now that we’d survived something unspeakable together, the ghost was flesh and blood and more dangerous than ever.
I reeled in my stupid empty line and packed up, the conversation with Shane sticking like a sliver under my skin.
When we got back to the house, the girls were clustered around the kitchen island, drinking white wine and trading stories.
Sabrina was laughing so hard she snorted, which made Alex go red in the face. Sydney was there, too. She gave me a look, half hungry, half betrayed, and I ignored it. I couldn’t deal with her right now. She knew the score, anyway.
I caught a glimpse of Amelia, her hips cocked, holding a knife as she expertly sliced tomatoes. Her hair was pulled back, exposing the vulnerable skin at the nape of her neck. I wanted to run my hand over it, to claim her, but I held back, rooted in the entryway like a coward.
Sabrina waved a wooden spoon at me. “Caiden, you’re on grill duty. Shane, too.”
I muttered a “sure,” then wandered out back, where the grill waited on the deck. The sunset painted Amelia in gold through the kitchen window, and I caught myself staring like a creep.
Shane joined me, stacking burger patties onto a plate. “You ever think about forgiving yourself?” he said, not quite looking at me.
I flinched. “Not really,” I said, lining up the rows of burgers. “Seems pointless.”
“Maybe,” Shane said, sliding the tray of meat closer. “But you act like you’re the only one carrying shit. We all have stuff from the past.”
“Not like mine.”
He shrugged, unperturbed. “Trauma Olympics is a losing game, bro.”
I focused on the hiss of the grill, watching the pink meat darken and bubble. For a moment, I could almost believe I belonged here, that I was a normal guy grilling burgers with his brother, not a broken mutt pretending at humanity.
But then I saw Amelia in the window again, and the illusion snapped. She was pouring herself a glass of wine, laughing at something Alex said, and her eyes flicked up to mine through the glass.
We held the look for just a second, and she flushed, turning away.
I wanted to lock myself in my room. I wanted to drink until I blacked out. I wanted to drag her outside and pin her to the deck and make her confess she missed me, too.
I wanted to be good enough she’d want me, even after everything. Instead, I stabbed at the burgers with the tines of the fork until the grease sizzled up and stung my skin.
“Careful,” Shane said. “They don’t cook faster if you kill them a second time.”
I barked a laugh, surprised at the sound. “Don’t count on it.”
We finished up the burgers, Shane disappearing inside with the platter held high in triumph. I lingered on the deck, letting the night air bite at my bare forearms, listening to the laughter and clatter of plates through the screen door.
I told myself I was just giving them space, but really, I was waiting—waiting to see if she’d come to me. She always did, eventually.
A minute later, the door squeaked open behind me. I didn’t turn right away. I knew it was her; I could feel the prickle of her presence, the static charge she left in the air. She padded over, barefoot, the planks creaking faintly beneath her weight.
“Food’s ready,” Amelia said, her voice like the edge of a blade, honed and dangerous in its softness.
I grunted, not trusting myself to speak.
“You gonna ignore me all night?”
I said nothing.
“Have it your way,” she said, a bitter laugh rising up. “That’s your right. But you’re not the only one with ghosts, you know.”
I finally turned to look at her, but she was already halfway through the door.