Chapter 5 Disclosures
Cade
Cade opened his eyes the next morning and immediately clocked his sore back and neck. He had slept like shit because of the lumpy sofa, and felt pissy about getting old because, as a kid, he could sleep on the ground and wake up good to go.
His mind had been preoccupied and uneasy the whole night as well. No matter how hard he tried to redirect his thoughts, his brain boomeranged back to the image of Tristan naked.
And lingered there.
His first glimpse of Tristan from behind revealed tanned, unblemished skin and toned muscle, a gorgeous blank canvas Cade wanted to paint. The idea of covering it with bruises and teeth marks had instantly jammed his brain.
And when Tristan had spun around, he had been dumbstruck. More flawless skin, still damp from his shower and glistening in the sunlight. Ginger curls scattered on his chest, down his legs, and around his pretty, perfect cock.
Like Cade's most perverted wet dream.
He had never seen anything so breathtaking in all his life, and his body instantly reacted.
Tristan was too much, too dangerous.
Too tempting.
Fuck, he was doing it again. He needed to get over this infatuation; Tristan was his protectee, his job was to keep him unharmed, and the things he wanted to do to him — Jesus, what he would do to him if he could — were not in his job description.
Sighing pathetically, Cade rose from the sofa and quietly padded to the bathroom past a sleeping Tristan.
When he finished, he stretched his muscles and then dropped down between the sofa and the dining table to do pushups and crunches.
At home, he used the gym almost every morning, and today he needed to move his body to shake off the ill effects of poor sleep.
Since no weights were available, Cade slipped on his shoes to take a run. Outside, he gauged the size of the clearing and figured he'd have to do about twenty laps around the perimeter to reach two miles.
As he started running, he remembered yesterday's 'perimeter' gaffe and frowned.
He had been desperate to escape, to distance himself from the temptation of Tristan's naked body.
His brain had been offline, and his blood concentrated somewhere decidedly south of his shoulders, so it wasn't surprising that something dumb came out.
That exchange and his brief fear of made-up rabid squirrels had his ego bristling from mortification. Tristan probably thought he was an idiot. The morbid thoughts spurred him on, as if he could escape the memories or the embarrassment by running faster.
It didn't work.
Cade knew he was good at his job. He excelled at close combat, had superb accuracy with a firearm, and possessed several other skills that allowed him to execute his hits cleanly and efficiently.
He had physical prowess, keen instincts, and street smarts, but he wasn't smart-smart, not like Annabeth and Tristan.
As he did his cool-down stretches, he briefly wondered why it mattered to him what Tristan thought. But self-reflection was not his wheelhouse, so he shut down that nonsense and decided it didn't matter at all.
Tristan was just a job. In another week, he'd never see him again. Cade should not care if the other man thought he was dumb.
He didn't care. He wouldn't care.
He returned to the cabin to find Tristan sitting at the kitchen table eating an apple, with his hair messy from sleep and looking way too cute for Cade's sanity.
"Hey," Tristan said, his voice still scratchy after just waking up.
"Hey."
"Is the perimeter safe?" he asked cheekily.
Cade told himself Tristan was definitely not funny or amusing in any way whatsoever. Instead, he rolled his eyes at him. "I'm going to shower."
Fresh from the shower, Cade found Tristan already tapping away at the computer, his half-eaten apple forgotten on the table.
He didn't want to disturb him but literally had nothing to do without a TV or video games.
He wasn't a big reader, and there was only so much doom-scrolling a person could endure.
He went outside and walked around a bit, then came back inside and stared at his phone for a while.
Sometime later, he wiped down the kitchen counters even though they were clean.
He stared out the window for an indeterminate amount of time, watching the clouds march across the sky, then texted Annabeth to ask for updates.
A few antsy hours passed, and Cade was relieved when Tristan finally rose from the sofa, stretched and turned to where he sat in the kitchen.
"I'm starving. Want some lunch?"
"Sure. What do you want?"
"Sandwiches? I'll make them."
"Sure."
Tristan served their meal and sat down to eat, his face haggard and his eyes dull. For some unknown reason, his appearance made Cade uncomfortable.
"No luck with your search?"
"No. I think it's a dead end."
"That sucks."
"Did you hear anything from Annabeth?"
"Nothing new."
"I just wish I could find some other angle. I feel like I'm missing something, like I should be able to look for the right things and find the clue that will lead me to her, you know?"
"Yeah."
"Do you have any other ideas?"
"Me?"
Tristan cocked his head to the side. "You said you've been doing this job for twelve years. What kind of stuff do you do to find these scumbags?"
Cade slid his eyes to his plate. "Annabeth does the investigation. I just get an address and do what I'm told."
"Oh."
Cade continued to avoid Tristan's gaze, telling himself again that he didn't care if he thought he was stupid.
"Well. I think I need to just step away and give my brain a rest. Maybe I'll take a walk in the woods."
"Okay."
As Cade washed his dish at the sink, Tristan reached past him to deposit his plate. He was close, so close that his chest brushed against Cade's upper arm.
Too close.
Cade scrubbed the dish to distract himself from Tristan's proximity, surprised when the other man leaned back but didn't step away. "Did that plate do something to you?"
Freezing, Cade blurted, "What?"
Tristan had that irreverent look on his face again. "You're scrubbing it really hard for just a few breadcrumbs."
Cade turned back to the sink to hide the blush he felt burn his cheeks. He finished washing the plate gently, then said, "I'm just being thorough."
With a chuckle, Tristan asked, "Do you want to come with me?"
"What? Where?" Cade was struggling to focus on the conversation while Tristan stood only inches away from him.
"On a walk. I just said that a minute ago."
Forcing himself to get his shit together, Cade stuttered, "Oh, yeah. Um, I guess. Nothing else to do."
Once outside, he followed behind Tristan, trying not to ogle his ass. He angled his face to the clouds, only returning it to the ground to watch his step as they entered the trees.
There was no clear path, but Tristan picked a direction and poked around as he ambled. The sun peeked through the canopy in places, but it was shaded and cool. For several minutes, only cracking branches and rustling leaves pierced the silence.
"Where are you going?"
"I dunno. Just walking around. Enjoying nature."
Cade didn't think swatting insects and protecting his eyes from pointy, wayward branches was enjoyable, but whatever.
When Tristan froze, Cade was momentarily mesmerized by the sight of him bathed in a ray of sun, his face turned up, and his mouth slightly open.
He was beautiful.
"Ah, I thought I heard something," Tristan said, snapping him back to reality.
"Huh?"
"It's a squirrel, a big one. See him there?"
Cade squinted and, sure enough, saw a large squirrel staring back at them.
"Don't worry, he's not rabid," Tristan joked with a smirk. "I mean, it's possible, but unlikely."
"Ha ha," he responded sarcastically.
Tristan laughed, apparently finding himself amusing, and Cade vowed not to fall under his spell, especially when he was the butt of the jokes.
As they walked, Tristan explored further, studying the ground, the trees, the moss. He pointed out birds, insects, chipmunks and rabbits. Cade wasn't fond of bugs, but he could deal with tiny, striped rodents and bunnies. They were cute and furry and not rabid.
Wait, were they?
As Cade assessed the chances of dying from rabies, Tristan stopped in a clearing and scanned the area, gasping softly.
"What?"
Tristan moved forward carefully. "It's a small copper butterfly. It's pretty rare to see them; they're an at-risk species." Cade crept up behind him and examined the creature. It just looked like any other butterfly to him.
"How do you know what kind it is?"
"We learned all the names, Natalie and I, from this big book my mom had.
I remember when Natalie was too young to read, she would point to the pictures and ask me to tell her what kind it was.
My mom loved butterflies, was obsessed with them," Tristan answered, not taking his eyes off the dancing insect.
He smiled as he spoke, though Cade wasn't sure if it was because of the beauty of the memory or the butterfly.
"She doesn't love them anymore?" he ventured.
"She died. Two years ago, from cancer," Tristan said as his smile slipped from his face.
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I like talking about her, most times, as long as it's the happy stuff."
Cade nodded but didn't respond. He had no happy memories of his mom, so he couldn't sympathize. Then he remembered something from the day before.
"Is that what you meant when you said your sister's all you have? That it's just you two?"
"Yeah," he said quietly. The butterfly flitted off, but Tristan continued to stare after it.
"What about your dad?"
A derisive scoff escaped Tristan's mouth. Cade held his breath, wondering if he'd pushed too far.
"He wasn't around much when I was little and disappeared completely when Natalie was a baby. It was just the three of us, then just the two of us. And now …"