Chapter 17 Rescue
Cade
As Cade drove to the rendezvous point, Tristan sat stiffly next to him, his leg bouncing with nervous energy.
Though Cade felt little worry over the impending rescue mission, his passenger's anxious twitching was chipping away at his normal composure, already cracked by Tristan's bombshell confession.
Tristan said he was falling in love with him.
Cade repeated the phrase in his head for the thousandth time, trying to convince himself he hadn't imagined it.
When Tristan had uttered those words, Cade's thoughts had erupted into chaos, scrambling in his mind like a pack of rabid squirrels.
The idea that someone loved him was bizarre, so far removed from his experiences that Cade struggled to reconcile the concept with reality. He was stunned that this man wanted him, despite his profession and the far-from-normal life that came with it.
Throughout his adulthood, he had never gotten close to anyone; hell, he rarely even slept with the same person twice.
He avoided intimacy because caring meant you got hurt, and he'd decided a long time ago that he'd had enough of that.
He knew as much about relationships as he knew about math.
He had no clue how to build a life with another person, how to make them happy.
How to make them stay.
He didn't know how to love someone; hell, he wasn't even sure if he knew what love was.
He'd never been in love, had never even given it much thought.
Romantic love seemed elusive and baffling, and he'd never even observed it up close.
His coworkers were all single, and while he'd lived with Marshall and Cindy, their divorce had loomed, and they'd barely spoken, except to communicate about dinner, Seth's basketball games, or meetings with the social worker.
He'd been too emotionally distant from other foster families to observe the parents' relationships, and if his own mother and father had loved each other, he'd been too young to know it.
He had no real-life frame of reference for romantic relationships.
What he'd gathered from movies and books was that couples always knew how to comfort each other, knew the right thing to say.
They shared inside jokes and could communicate silently with just a certain look or a raised eyebrow.
It all seemed baffling to Cade, like he was somehow defective for not understanding the rules, and just the idea of trying to fumble his way through those situations scared the shit out of him.
He couldn't imagine himself in the kitchen, cooking with someone else, sharing a glass of wine and talking about their days, not with his job, for Christ's sake.
He'd probably stumble over his words, say the wrong thing, or stay silent when he should say something encouraging. He'd probably just mess everything up.
Even if he could somehow learn these things, he had nothing of value to offer a partner.
It's not like he and Tristan would have children and a family dog and a minivan.
It's not like Tristan could introduce him to his work buddies and take him to holiday parties.
No, the most he could offer would be financial stability and protection, because he was sure no one else would be as skilled or motivated to keep Tris and Natalie safe.
And Cade could, and absolutely would, sacrifice for Tristan, to do whatever was necessary to keep him happy, healthy and satisfied.
Beyond that, he would be at a loss to understand and safeguard someone else's emotions and well-being, to do what society expected of him, what a partner expected.
Loving someone seemed entirely too fucking complicated.
But earlier, Tristan had been open, unguarded, gentle, and he'd touched Cade like love wasn't complicated at all, like it wasn't a mystery, like all a person had to do was to breathe, to just be.
Tristan acted like love was the easiest thing in the world.
That sex, so unlike his usual encounters, left Cade feeling vulnerable, exposed, and vaguely terrified. It had been the same way the other night after his dream: some undeniable link between them manifested, as if their emotions swirled to create a living, tangible presence in the room.
The sex wasn't kinky, shouldn't have aroused him so fiercely, but when Tristan reverently kissed his body, worshipped his hands, and treated him like someone worthy of tenderness, it had overwhelmed him.
The act of making love for the first time had knocked him so far off kilter that he was still reeling hours later. He hadn't known sex could be so intimate and personal, that he was capable of feeling such a deep bond with another person — body, mind and soul.
The thought of anyone else touching Tristan like that made him burn with fury and seethe with jealousy.
He wanted Tristan, deeply, desperately. Madly.
But he wasn't sure he could, or should, be in a relationship with Tristan, wasn't sure he could be what Tristan wanted and needed him to be.
He didn't want to fail, not at this; it was too important. He knew he'd be devastated if he let Tristan down, disappointed him. Fuck, he'd rather face down a dozen armed hostiles alone.
It all came down to risk.
Was he brave enough to risk disappointing someone he cared about, to risk being hurt himself?
And, after protecting it so fiercely for all these years, was he brave enough to risk his heart?
The rendezvous point was an abandoned gas station less than a mile from the target's coordinates.
Cade drove to the rear and parked next to two similar white vans under the only working light pole.
Annabeth emerged from one van's open door and stood next to Tag, who leaned against the side with his arms crossed, dressed in all black and looking bored.
As Cade and Tristan exited the car, Annabeth called out, "Hey, guys. Tristan, are you ready to get your sister?"
"If she's there, like we're assuming," Tag added blandly. Cade saw Annabeth frown and glanced at Tristan, who looked stricken.
Fucking Tag, never squandering an opportunity to be a douchebag.
"Tris," Cade said softly, pulling at Tristan's sleeve to stop him.
"He's right, we're not sure she's there, but there's a good chance given how close the warehouse is to where Natalie was taken and the fact that the driver brought the other girl here.
Don't let that prick get in your head. He lives to cause drama. "
Nodding, Tristan pressed his lips together, and Cade cursed silently at how uncertain he looked as they took the final steps toward Annabeth and Tag.
Cade always thought the two made an odd pair, with their matching icy blonde hair and blue eyes, but the man towered over the woman by a foot and a half, making them look like mismatched twins.
"The blond asshole is Tag," Cade tossed out, watching as Tristan's eyes widened, probably recognizing the name from Cade's stories.
"Uh, nice to meet you," Tristan said, sounding like he wasn’t sure he meant it.
Looking over his shoulder at the other van, Cade was about to ask about the rest of their team when he turned back and realized both Annabeth and Tag were staring at the conspicuous marks on Tristan's neck.
"I guess the safe house wasn't too safe, huh?
" Annabeth quipped, making the redhead's cheeks pinken.
Her words teased instead of judged, and Tristan didn't seem offended, so Cade wasn't either, but then Tag lazily pushed off the van and stood right in front of Tristan, close enough to reach out and touch him.
Too close.
Tag's face took on a smarmy expression Cade knew well; it meant whatever came out of Tag's mouth next would be offensive.
"Well, well, well," the blond snarked. "What do we have here?
" He made a show of inspecting the bruises, but Tristan tilted up his chin, refusing to hide them.
Cade's protective instincts swelled for a moment, but he talked himself down.
He'd already been agitated when he got out of the car and was being stupid. Tristan was in no real danger.
"Looks like you and the King are getting along exceedingly well," Tag said, making the simple statement sound lecherous.
"Yeah, we are," Tristan answered, sounding casual, even though Cade could tell from his body language that he was uneasy.
"The King moves quick, I see," Tag drawled.
"And?" Tristan asked innocently.
"Nothing really. I'm actually pretty impressed. The work is quite... thorough, isn't it?" When Tag reached out a hand as if to touch Tristan's neck, the redhead blanched and leaned away.
The idea of Tag laying hands on Tristan in any way whatsoever provoked a visceral reaction in Cade's gut, and his restraint snapped. He wasn't sure if it was because he didn't want anyone at all touching Tristan, or if he just didn't want this fucking dickhead to do it.
Cade took a step closer, not quite between them, and faced Tag. "Leave him alone," he warned, knowing he sounded too defensive.
"What? I didn't do anything," Tag replied with feigned innocence.
Cade's hackles rose like they always did around this insufferable jackass, and he inserted himself fully between Tag and Tristan, ready to act as a shield or maybe smash his colleague's face if the mood struck.
"Don't touch him," he warned ominously. If this bastard so much as grazed Tristan's shoulder, he feared he would lose it.
"What's the matter, King? Afraid I'm going to steal your new chew toy?"
"Shut the fuck up, Taggart, and step back," Cade hissed, clutching at the last threads of restraint, fists clenching at his side.
Tristan placed a steady hand on Cade's arm. "Cade, let it go. It's fine."
As Cade continued to scowl at Tag, the douchebag had the gall to laugh. "Jesus, this is rich. You're already whipped."
"Shut the fuck up," Cade growled, nearly surrendering to the impulse to thrash this man here and now, like he'd wanted to for years.