Chapter 37 #4
I heard the screen door slam shut and looked just in time to see Caiden storming outside, pulling off his shirt in the process as he went around back.
After a few moments of hesitation, I dismissed myself and followed Caiden.
He was behind the house, an ax in his hand as he chopped firewood.
Still weak, I leaned against the side of the house as I watched him.
He didn't notice me at first. He was lost in the rhythm, the violence of movement, splitting the soft pine with a force that was almost showy.
The ax rose, fell, sang through the grain. I watched him, mesmerized, the way his exposed back flexed. The way his bare arm muscles tightened with each swing. The way his breath steamed in the cold air.
He looked like he could hack through the whole forest and not touch the bottom of his anger.
It dawned on me how strong he was. His chest was broad and muscular, not like a bodybuilder, but it was the perfect mixture of lean and muscle.
Finally, he sensed me. The ax paused mid-air, wobbling at the top of its arc. He turned, wiped his brow with the back of his wrist, and met my eyes like he'd known I’d be standing there all along.
"You’re not supposed to be out here," he said, but it came out soft, almost pleading.
"I needed air," I said. "And I needed to see if you were okay."
He snorted, slamming another log onto the stump. "I’m not the one who almost drowned."
The ax bit deep, splitting the wood clean in two. He tossed the halves into a growing pile with more force than necessary.
"Are you mad at me?" I asked, hating how small I sounded.
He shook his head, but it was a lie. "I’m mad at myself," he said. "I should’ve never let you get in that fucking canoe."
I stepped closer, the wet grass cold through the soles of my socks. "You didn’t let me do anything. I wanted to try. That’s not your fault."
He stared at the wood, at the mess of his own hands.
"I've done enough damage for one lifetime," he said, voice flat. "You ever think about how many times I've hurt you? Even when I'm trying to help, I end up making shit worse."
He set the ax down, careful, like it was something delicate instead of a weapon. Then he turned and looked at me. It was too raw, like he’d torn himself open just for the occasion.
I wanted to say something that would fix it, but the only words that came to mind were useless and small. "I don't blame you," I said.
"You should," he spat. "I do. Every fucking day."
He wiped his palms down his jeans, leaving streaks of sap and dirt, then exhaled like he was trying to empty out his lungs one last time.
"I shouldn't have snapped at you. Or Dante." He tried to laugh, but it went nowhere. "But you get it, right? How it feels when you want to keep someone safe, but you know you’re the last person who ever could?"
I did. I got it so well, I almost laughed at the irony of us.
"You never had to keep me safe, Caiden," I said. "You just had to not be the one hurting me. That was all I wanted. I don't know if it’s something you can even do, but that's what I wanted."
He flinched at that. "I'm trying, Amelia. I was an asshole back then,” he said, then his voice softened. “I want to think I’ve changed, but—”
“You have.” The words rushed out. “You’re not that person anymore, Caiden.”
He looked away, breathing through his nose, jaw tight. "Seems like nothing has changed. Every time I get close to something good, I ruin it. Or I break it. Or it gets taken from me. Doesn’t really matter which."
He hefted the axe again, then paused, fingers closing and opening on the haft. “Look, could you just… give me a minute?” he said. “I need to finish this. Otherwise, I won’t be able to look at you without saying something I’ll regret.”
I nodded, though I doubted anything he could say would shock me anymore. I started to turn away, but his voice caught me at the edge of the ragged yard.
I thought about pushing back, imagined forcing him to admit what he was really angry about. But he was raw, exposed as a nerve. Something told me if I pressed now, he might shatter for good.
So, I let him be.
“Amelia.”
I looked back. He didn’t meet my eyes.
“Just, I’m glad you’re okay. That’s all.”
He slammed another log down and the sound echoed across the lake. I left him with the axe and the growing heap of firewood and went back inside, my own anger cooling into a sad, dull ache.
In the kitchen, Dante was brewing more tea, the air thick with a humid, earthy sweetness. He didn’t look up when I came in, just poured boiling water over the leaves and set the mug on the table, waiting for it to steep.
“He’s not mad at you, you know,” Dante said after a minute, watching the steam rise in lazy spirals. “He just doesn’t know how to deal with his own shit. Never did.”
I shrugged, unsure how to answer. “I’m not asking him to be my savior. But I wish he’d stop acting like everything I do is some grand risk to be managed.”
Dante smiled, tired but kind. “He thinks if he controls the outcome, he can keep the bad stuff away. It’s what he does best, something it takes a hold of him too tightly, and he can’t shake it off.”
"Is that what you believe?" I asked, unsure if I wanted to hear the answer.
Dante stirred his own mug, the spoon clinking lightly. " I think some people are just built for disaster, and some are built to pick up what's left. Caiden is the first kind. Me, I'm the other."
I looked at him, unsure if I was supposed to laugh, or be offended for both of them. "You think I'm a disaster?"
He blinked, surprised, then laughed and shook his head. "No. I think you’re the only reason either of us functions at all."
His words made me uncomfortable, because I wanted to believe them. I wanted to believe I brought something good to the table, that I was not just a wound that needed constant tending.
He must have seen the discomfort on my face, because he reached over and put his hand over mine.
"I'm serious," he said. "If I could pick anywhere in the world to be, it'd be right here. With you. Even if it's just for the weekend." His thumb brushed the back of my hand, warm and deliberate. "You don't have to keep running, you know."
I shook my head. "I can't stay here. Not for long. This town is poison for me."
Dante smiled, a little sad, a little knowing. "Maybe. But I’m afraid that if you go back with Caiden, he will ultimately ruin you. Not to hate on the guy, but I know him well, and I know just how deep his anger runs."
He let go, but the warmth stayed, pooling in my chest, some strange relief in being wanted so openly. Though, his words about Caiden struck a seed of doubt within me.
I had begun to slowly accept my blossoming feelings for him, that maybe it could work, maybe he’s not the same tormentor that I once knew.
Dante entering the picture complicated things, and the words he just spilled began to confuse my brain.
“I don’t know what to do,” I whispered, more to myself than him, but he replied anyway.
“You don’t have to decide now. But just know, I’m here, and you could be happy with me, and feel secure knowing I would never ruin you. Hell, maybe we could even settle down somewhere else, away from Pathosbury.”
The choice should have been easy, but it was not easy at all.
My heart was torn, splitting into two paths, and I was unsure of where I belonged.
What I did know is that my feelings for Caiden were real, because if they weren’t, my heart wouldn’t be filled with a deep sorrow at the thought of leaving him behind.