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I don’t have to let go of one man to love another.
“Yes,” I answer under a shower of confetti.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Don’t Sleep (Freestyle) by SKYLR
Cade’s quiet while I turn my truck toward the mainland.
“Where are we going?”
Of course, she asks.
“I have a little place in Bluffton, a loft I rent from my friend Quincy.”
“Damn, Silas. You’re an onion with layers to discover.”
She makes me laugh.
“It’s nothing fancy. I need a place on the mainland, and we fixed up the loft above his garage. It’s simple but someplace new for us.” I glance at her. “I figured there’re lots of memories at your place.”
Nodding her head, she looks out the window, and I give her time. If Cade changes her mind, that’s fine. If we just hold each other, I need that too. But my God, if I finally get to touch her, taste her, and fuck her, damn, I’m gonna have to hold myself back.
Watching Cade from afar has been sweet torture, but we needed the distance. Her for Redix and whatever’s going on between them, and me because of Charlie and Alec.
Yeah, I’ve fucked other women, but you know it when you’re with someone who will mean more. I live with my heart open and felt it the minute I met Cade.
At first, she was about as interested in me as day-old bread. But everything’s changing for her and pulling us together, no matter her past.
I like that she still loves Redix. It’s one of the things I respect about her. That she doesn’t give up on someone. That she believes in the deepest love, one that won’t die. Too many walk away from love over one fight, one mistake, or one tragedy.
Maybe it’s because I could never keep the love I wanted. Even while I loved Alec, I loved Charlie, too. To this day, I miss Alec. And if Charlie calls, I’m there. I don’t have to fuck Charlie to love her. Though don’t get me wrong… I’m dying to, but that’ll never happen.
I don’t need to claim Cade or anyone as “mine” to love them.
People aren’t possessions; they’re gifts.
Lose one, and you learn that real quick.
The porch light over the door above the garage lights our way up the stairs. It’s dark until I hit a switch, and a couple of lamps turn on.
“Home, sweet second home,” I pronounce while Cade looks around.
“Silas, this is nice.”
“It’s amazing what white paint can do.”
The place is simple and what I can afford. A brand new studio apartment with all that’s important: a big bed, a new bathroom, a small kitchen, and a chair. I don’t need more than this. But I need her, taking her hand and pulling her to me.
“You sure you’re ready for this?”
“No.”
“Cade, I”—there’s confidence in her eyes as tears well in them, too—“I won’t make you do anything.”
“No one makes me do a damn thing. I need to do this.”
The strap of her dress is spaghetti thin while I trace over it. “Do what?”
