40. Saint
40 SAINT
Kade hasn’t stopped watching me, and it’s getting on my last fucking nerve.
He showed up about ten minutes after I got back to the condo.
I planned on drinking myself into an oblivion and passing out.
But no . He insisted we make dinner, saying that we hadn’t had a decent meal since the sandwiches he made for us after we showed up at his house.
So, grudgingly, I let him raid the fridge and pantry and put together a meal worthy of a two-star diner.
Okay, fine, it was better than that.
Good, even.
He followed me to the gym.
To the fucking gym .
Needless to say, it only wound me tighter instead of burning off the energy I desperately wanted to shed.
By the time I was done, my body glistened with sweat.
I forced him to leave me alone long enough to shower, and that seemed like a small miracle.
The door remained locked, although he knocked at the five-minute mark and demanded an answer.
Was my answer in the form of a string of curses?
Maybe.
He deserved it, though.
Now, we sit across from each other in the living room, and it feels oddly familiar to sitting across from Reese.
Except now, I’m not tempted to pull out the whiskey and make him answer questions.
Mainly because the idea of Kade prying into my life is infinitely more invasive.
If only he would stop staring.
“What?” I finally snap.
He sighs. “Are you suicidal?”
“What?” Hoarser, without the power behind it.
I press my palms flat to my thighs.
“Why are you asking me that?”
“It’s not a no,” he mutters.
“Fuck off.”
He rolls his eyes.
It clicks, then, that this was Artemis.
Whether she was just trying to get him out of the hospital, or she really does think I’m going to do something that will end my life?—
My throat closes.
“Let’s talk about something else,” I manage.
“Why are you looking for Reese?”
Kade eyes me and doesn’t answer.
Infuriating.
I’m not going to admit if I do or don’t want to kill myself.
I think about it sometimes.
I like to flirt with death.
But over the last month or so, I’ve been…
smiling.
Which is so strange, and completely at odds with the last year.
Elora’s absence hasn’t been constantly pressing down on my shoulders.
It’s only when I’m alone that I consider how she would be perceiving this.
So… was I suicidal?
Probably.
Now, I’m not so sure.
“I’m not going to kill myself this week.” I think that should be enough for now.
Enough commitment. “But I think you owe us something. You met Reese in the Marines, you said.”
“We were in the same squadron,” Kade says.
“He saved my life, so when he went off the radar two years ago, I knew something bad happened. We stayed in contact up until then.”
I frown.
“You’re how old?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“When did you join?”
He leans back, seeming to settle in.
“Fresh out of high school. I didn’t know anything about anything, and my pops thought it would be a good idea for me to have more structure.” His expression darkens.
“He and my mom got divorced when I was eight. I lived with her, and he had vocal opinions about that. It did create the drive in me to go make something of myself… and I wanted to impress him. Or at least prove that I could do something with my life.”
Huh.
“And you deployed.”
He dips his head.
“While you were fighting for your country, we were…” I gesture around.
“I guess Sterling Falls doesn’t really seem too bad to you, does it?”
He sighs.
“Every war is different, Saint. Doesn’t make it any less barbaric.”
That’s what we are, then.
Barbarians.
We fight tooth and nail for this town, to make any sort of progress, and we chip and splinter our bones on the asphalt to gain any purchase we can.
It’s not fair.
“We should stretch our legs,” Kade says.
“Come on.”
I glare at him, but I still follow.
To the elevator and downstairs.
We head out, and he takes a right.
We pass out of view of the security camera, past the blood Reese left behind.
If we keep going down this street, we’ll end up at the university.
And on the other side of that is the sheriff’s office.
Two blocks over is Starlight.
And, surprisingly, that’s where Kade goes.
He stops outside of the glass storefront, then glances at me.
“Do you have a key?”
I scowl and jerk my head in the form of a nod.
I open it up and step through, ignoring the way he follows close behind.
I turn on the lights, and my skin tingles.
I don’t like him as my shadow, I don’t like him, period.
The fact that he came here?—
“Are you trying to poke around my head? Psychological shit?” I plant my hands on my hips.
“I’m not falling for it.”
He appraises me.
“It’s not getting to you?”
“No,” I snap.
His dark eyes bore into mine for too long, and then his attention shifts.
Like a gust of wind knocking the tension out of my muscles, I exhale.
Relax.
He takes his time looking around.
The wall of framed drawings, photos, newspaper and magazine clippings.
The cover I was on for a tattoo magazine, framed dead center, now seems ostentatious and reaching.
The white couch has sat many people waiting for their appointments.
Even some hockey players and their wives, which was a pretty cool experience.
Mainly because they’re about as crazy as my friends—not openly, but they just had that vibe.
Like Kade.
He plops himself down in my tattooing chair, then leans forward and pulls off his shirt.
Muscles.
I stare at him, trying to comprehend how someone can have so many muscles.
His abs have abs.
“Like what you see?”
My face flushes.
He’s smirking at me, leaning back and crossing his ankles like he has every right to sit there.
“I want a tattoo.”
I scoff.
“No.”
“Why not?” He glances around.
“It’s the line of people begging to get in, isn’t it?”
“For fuck’s sake,” I groan.
“I’m not—we have better things to worry about.”
He just waits, and he seems too fucking comfortable in the chair.
Like he has all the time in the world.
Finally, he adds, “It’d be a good distraction.”
I narrow my eyes.
“Do you have any tattoos?”
“A few. I’m not an amateur.”
And yet, I don’t see any ink on his upper torso.
“Here.” He hooks his thumb in the waistband of his pants, right where his abdomen forms one side of a V, and drags it down an inch.
There’s a line of script.
But before I can get a chance to read it, he releases the waistband and smiles wider.
“I’m not tattooing you,” I say.
“In fact, I’m going home.”
I make it to the door before he replies, “Oh, so you’re referring to it as home , now?”
Fucker.
I hold it open and point to the street.
He slowly gets up from the chair and shrugs back on his shirt.
“I had a friend who said getting tattoos was the ultimate way to remember a place.” He moves past me, his gaze lingering on the ink visible on my throat.
“I like his philosophy. Sterling Falls is growing on me.”
I grimace.
“Maybe you should consider therapy.”
He laughs.
Full-belly, open-mouth laugh that goes straight into my ears.
I grit my teeth and close the door behind us, locking it quickly.
Suddenly, he cuts off.
I face him, only to find his somber face staring down at his phone screen.
“I’ve got to take this,” he says.
He answers it and gives me his back—but not only that, he puts distance between us.
My brows furrow.
When he returns, his easy smile is back in place.
“Tem said she needs her laptop from Bow & Arrow to work while she stays with Reese.”
Oh, jeez.
Artemis tends to be a workaholic at the best of times.
Hearing that she wants to catch up on spreadsheets or some shit is not surprising in the least.
“You okay?” he asks me.
“You kind of look like shit.”
I scowl.
But… yeah. Exhaustion weighs on me, plus a healthy dose of guilt.
While Artemis got some sleep before Kade went to find Reese, I stayed awake.
I filled Kade in on everything I knew about that place, although I felt uniquely un qualified.
After all, I was pretty much unconscious when Elora and her friends came to get me out.
I don’t sleep much as it is, but I’m paying for missing hours.
“Fine,” I admit. “I’m going to go crash.”
He pats my shoulder.
“Good decision. Don’t burn out before we’ve even begun.”
It isn’t until we get back to Artemis’ building and part ways that I pause, staring off after Kade.
His SUV is parked a block down, his keys swinging around his index finger.
He’s the picture of not bothered , even though the situation with Reese should bother him a lot.
So either he’s the world’s best pretender, or he really isn’t as attached to Reese—or worried about him—as he made us believe.
And what does he mean, before we’ve even begun?