I noticed there were two sides to Caiden. The wild, untamed, and passionate one who spoke how he felt, and would do anything to connect with the gentle softness that he had. The one who knew how he felt, determined to redeem himself and prove he wasn’t just a cruel beast.
Then, there was the controlled Caiden, who was quiet and dark. The one who I feared, the one who could snap at any moment and ruin me.
I chewed the candy and watched the road wind tighter, the trees arching overhead in a cathedral of green.
“Do you think it’ll be weird?” I asked, and it was unclear if I meant the weekend or the fact that all three of us would be in such close quarters. “Like, with all of us?”
Caiden shrugged, but his knuckles blanched on the steering wheel. “Only if we make it weird.”
“Are we already making it weird?” I risked a glance at his profile, the hard line of his jaw, the stubble growing in unevenly, as if he’d forgotten himself for a few days. I wanted to touch his cheek, to see how it would feel beneath my fingers.
A muscle twitched in his face. “I mean, I think it’s pretty much always been weird with us.”
I laughed, surprised by the sound, and saw the barest hint of a smile flicker at the edge of his mouth. “You’re not wrong.”
Caiden drove faster as we got closer, like he was racing some invisible deadline. His hands never left the wheel, but I caught his eyes in the rearview, a glance so brief and so full of want that it wrecked me.
When the turnoff came, he slowed to a crawl, then navigated the gravel with a caution that felt almost reverent. The tires chewed dust, and over the rise, the lake appeared, misty and flat.
Dante’s car was already parked beneath a crooked basketball hoop, the net long since rotted away. The air was enveloped with cold, the lake itself a dark sheet, unruffled and endless.
Caiden killed the engine and leaned back, head thunking gently against the headrest. For a second, he didn’t move. Maybe he was waiting for me to say something.
I got out first, the cold air pinching my lungs.
Dante was on the porch. He looked more at home than I’d ever seen him, loose-limbed and grinning as if nothing in the world had ever threatened him.
I heard Caiden’s door open and slam behind me, footsteps crunching on the gravel. He hovered by the trunk, eyes turned toward the water, profile severe in the morning light.
The lake house was painted brown, its windows bleary with years of storms. There was a strip of lawn leading down to a rickety dock, the planks warped and silvered as a fish’s belly. A canoe leaned against the shed.
I followed Dante inside, dragging my duffel. The screen door whined shut behind me, and I was instantly enveloped by the hush of the place.
I set my bag in the corner by the table and pressed my palms to the cold glass. Out there, the lake looked like smoked glass, no wind to fracture its surface.
Near the dock, Caiden walked slowly, hands buried in his pockets, shoulders boxy and defensive.
I watched him for a moment, trying to puzzle out the shape of his sadness from this distance. He stooped and picked up a stone, weighed it, then let it drop back to earth.
Dante appeared behind me, close enough to feel the warmth radiate off his skin. He set the donuts on the counter and offered me coffee. “There’s a canoe,” he said, voice low. “You ever been?”
I hadn’t. “No, I was always too afraid of it losing balance, and I would fall into the water. I didn’t think anybody would be there to catch me, so I avoided things like that.”
Dante tilted his head and studied me. “I won’t let anything happen to you. If you fall, I’ll jump right in to save you.” He grinned after the words left his mouth, and I knew he meant it.
I took the cup and sipped, the warmth unspooling inside me. “Are you sure?” I asked, half-mocking, half-hoping. My pulse thudded in my neck.
“Amelia,” Dante said, and it was almost embarrassing how I loved the way my name sounded in his mouth. “You could set the canoe on fire, and I’d still get in with you.”
I watched him, searching for irony or pretense, but there was none. It was just him, solid and uncomplicated, standing in the splintered morning.
“I don’t know. I haven’t had the best experience with water lately.” There was a nervousness in my voice, one which crackled with uncertainty.
Before Dante could respond, Caiden’s voice cut in.
“She’s right. I wouldn’t push her too much on that subject. We had a bad accident in Colorado while kayaking.” Caidencame to stand beside me, and I could feel the tension shifting in the room.
Dante and Caiden had a stare off, a silent challenge on who I belonged to, and who I should listen to.
