Chapter forty-six Kaden
Chapter forty-six
Kaden
Iwave from the front steps as Dylan is forced into the backseat of Dad’s truck. My smile stretches wide as he turns to look out the window, and I stick my middle finger up at him. He deadpans, his eyes screaming all the ways he wishes he could kill me.
Yeah, the feeling is mutual, Dyl.
I make a show of slamming the front door closed, dusting my hands as the scent of something sweet touches my nose.
Melody is at the oven, using her mitts to take out a fresh batch of blueberry muffins she started earlier.
She bends forward, extracting the tray, and my eyes caress her ass from behind.
Fuck, I could take her like that, bent over the oven with her little robe hiked up. She wouldn't be able to stop me if she tried.
“Quit staring at me,” she sings as she slides the tray onto the counter.
“I like looking at you.”
She doesn't acknowledge me as she slaps her gloves off and points at me. “They’re hot. Don't touch.”
I salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
She heads back upstairs, and I wait patiently for her.
It doesn't take long for her to get dressed before she comes back down in a pair of fleece-lined tights, a grey shirt that hangs down to her mid-thigh, a fluffy cardigan, and thick socks.
Her hair is tossed up into a messy bun, golden flyaways sprouting from all angles as she snatches up two muffins and carries them into the living room.
She plops down on the sofa, using the remote to turn on the flat screen as she flicks through movies and tv shows.
I grab a muffin, peeling the paper away from it as I walk over to her and sit on the opposite side of the couch. I take a hearty bite, instantly burning my tongue. “Fuck.”
“I told you,” she croons. “What are you doing?”
My brows jump as I take a much smaller bite. “What does it look like I'm doing? I’m watching a movie with you.”
She hums in displeasure before finding the most atrocious-looking rom-com she can. She reads the synopsis, turning her head at the screen. “You would hate this one.”
“Yes, I would.” I agree.
She clicks the play button, settling in as she peels the wrapper off her muffin and draws a blanket over her lap.
Two hours of romantic-comedy torture, it is.
It’s cute, really. She's trying her hardest to pretend like I'm not even here as she remains focused on the screen. It makes me a little antsy knowing that she's icing me out.
“So,” I begin casually, crossing my ankle over my knee. “Dylan doesn't know how to eat pussy.”
“You’re disgusting,” Melody drawls under her breath.
I shrug, running my hand over my mouth. “It was just an observation.”
“Good thing I don't care about your observations,” she mutters.
My lips twitch. “He’s never made you cum that hard, has he?”
“You’re delusional,” she snarls, tucking her blanket closer to her chin.
“Confident,” I correct.
“Full of yourself,” she counters.
I pop a shoulder before mumbling under my breath. “At least I know how to eat pussy.”
Her head swivels to me, rage burning in her eyes. “Shut up or get the fuck out.”
I hold my hands up as if she just pulled a weapon on me. “Whoa, hostile much?”
She rolls her eyes, peering back over at the TV. “You have no idea what my sex life is like, and we’re going to keep it that way.”
“Oh,” I smile connivingly. “I know plenty.”
She snorts. “Yeah? Enlighten me, then.”
I sit forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I chase her eyes.
“You get quiet after—irritated. You’re unsatisfied, and you wake up slamming cabinets to piss him off.
” Her eyes widen as her head slowly turns to me, but I don't stop.
“You text your little group chat of girls and tell them ‘It was fine.’”
Her lips part on a gasp, and I know I've hit the nail on the head. It’s easy to tell when my girl’s needs aren't being met. We learned from each other in the beginning. I know her like the back of my fucking hand.
“No one deserves just ‘fine,’ Melody,” I whisper, my eyes shifting to her plush lips.
“Especially not you. You deserve a man who would fucking eat you like his last meal on earth, and still ask for seconds.
You deserve a man who would sit through a two-hour rom-com just because he knows it's your favorite genre. You deserve something real.”
She doesn't breathe—doesn’t blink—as if her brain can't catch up. I'm not offering pretty words laced with thin promises. I’m speaking from my heart, an organ I don't use unless it comes to her.
Her lips move, and nothing comes out before she swallows. “And you think you should be the man to give that to me?”
“Do I deserve to be that man?” I ask rhetorically. “No. But ask me if I give a fuck.”
“Do you give a fuck?” She whispers.
My face sets as my eyelids droop. “Not a single one.”
Her throat works; her gaze becomes distant as it drifts down. She stops before she can get to my lips, closing her eyes as she shifts forward. “We can't do this again…”
“I thought I made my stance abundantly clear,” I tilt my head, my eyes searing into her. “I don't ask anymore, pretty girl. Not when it comes to you.”
“I have a choice when it comes to who my heart belongs to, Kaden.” She hisses. “And I choose Dylan.”
His name twists in my gut like a fresh blade. I don't let the wound show as I stand. I make my movements slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking prey as I inch closer to her. The air grows tight as she sits back, putting space between us.
I lean down, resting one hand on her left and the other on her right as I level our noses. She doesn’t draw back any further, most likely from the fear blowing her pupils.
“Say it again,” I whisper, the sound vibrating between us. “Say you choose him.”
She lifts her chin in defiance, but it’s wobbly. “I choose him.”
I tilt my head, my eyes flickering to her lips. “Is this the hill we’re choosing to die on? You’re only picking him because he’s safe, you know?”
Her jaw flexes. “I love him.”
I roll my tongue along my teeth, fighting the urge to fucking collar her throat and show her what love really is.
Mine is twisted and fucked, but it's all for her. “You love the idea of him. White picket fence and candlelit dinners. The pretty words he spouts to keep you happy when you know you’re content at best.” A chuckle is squeezed from me, sounding strained and humorless.
“You don't hate me, Melody. Not like you think you do.
You're more upset that you still feel something—”
“Kaden,” she warns in a whisper.
“—for me after all these years. Choosing him doesn't erase us. We weren’t written in the stars. No, no. We were etched into a fucking headstone, and I'm going to show you that no amount of wasted time on Dylan can compare to even a second of what we share.”
Her lips wobble as her eyes become glassy. “You don't get to do this to me…”
“Too late,” I shake my head. “You can choose Dylan all you want, but understand this, pretty girl. Choices have consequences.”
Fear. It flickers across her as fast as lightning. “Stay away from him.”
“Call off the wedding.”
She regains some of her fire, pressing a hand to my chest as she pushes me away. “I’m marrying him, and you can't stop me.”
“Want to bet?” I muse, darkness curling around my being as I close my hand around her wrist. “I’ll fucking drown him if I have to.”
“Stop, Kaden!” She shouts.
The front door clicks, and I step back, my chest heaving as Mom and Dad flutter in with their arms piled high with grocery bags.
Dylan saunters in, holding another pack of beer and some flowers as his eyes find us in the living room.
He stops, gaze bouncing back and forth as he feels out the atmosphere.
I hope he suspects. I hope it keeps him up at night. Meanwhile, I’m still savoring the taste of what he thinks is his.