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Connecting my phone to the Jeep’s Bluetooth, I called her.
“The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected.” I frowned. There was no way in hell she disconnected her phone. I must’ve dialed wrong. Trying again, I stared hard at my radio as I waited. Once again, “The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected.”
Well, fuck.
Chapter 55
Genevieve
Ishould’ve been packing—I honestly meant to—but the rain falling off my porch overhang was too tempting to ignore. Leggings, a big sweater, comfy socks, and pumpkin spice coffee paired well with the quiet rain. Mostly, I just wanted to sit in silence and let the water drown out the constant thoughts in my head.
The yard was an oddball one according to my neighbors. The six-foot side fences were designed to cut them off, which worked. What confused them was the way each fence stopped right at the edge of the forest with absolutely no back fence. I said we wanted deer and animals to feel welcome in our yard. They bought it. Sort of. I couldn’t very well tell them the whole point was so we could shift and disappear into the woods unnoticed.
The side gate flew open, banging off the fence as Cade let himself in. I should’ve locked that. Crap. He struggled to get it shut and keep his jacket over his head at the same. I didn’t move, just watched as he ran across my lawn and nearly took himself out on a strip of mud.
“Your yard,” he huffed out when he was under the overhang, “is trying to kill me!”
He shook his body out, water flying everywhere.
“Maybe it’s a sign you shouldn’t be here,” I said softly.
“Nice try, darling.” Cade chuckled. “A little rain and mud won’t get rid of me.”
“Of course, it won’t.” I sipped my coffee and tracked his movements. He hung his jacket over a chair and sat down on the porch in front of me, his back pressed against the rail. If everything wasn’t covered in fabric cushions, he probably would’ve sat elsewhere. I wanted to offer to take the cushions off but forced myself to hold my tongue. The goal was to get rid of him, not make him stay, but I was lonely, and my loneliness won. “Is Raven okay? She’s not here taking my door down with an ax.”
“To be fair, Declan hid his axes from her after he heard about that threat,” he replied with a ghost of a smile. “She’ll be okay. Things are… hard right now. Grief is funny like that.”
Yes, it was.
“So, what’s going on with you?” He toed the edge of my chair. Those blue eyes stared at me expectantly, and I looked away.
“How do two people growing up in the same bad situation end up so different?” I asked instead of answering him. I gripped my coffee cup tighter, willing its warmth into my cold body. “How can one leave and one stay? Is one just weaker than the other? Broken and…”
I didn’t know what word I was looking for. He didn’t answer right away. The silence between us was thick. And why wouldn’t it be? I couldn’t ask a normal question, could I?
“I think people grossly underestimate the strength it takes to stay in a situation that continuously hurts you,” Cade whispered. “Walking away takes strength, but so does the endurance of pain. And to grow up into a gorgeous fucking woman with a heart of gold and more kindness in one finger than most people have in their whole body is… enviable. Some people grow up to be hot-as-fuck baseball players with serious intimacy and anger issues.”
“I think you forgot a few of your better qualities there,” I told him, my gaze flicking to him briefly.
“But isn’t that how it works? We don’t see the good about us. We’re conditioned to see all the bad things.”
I bit my lip, nodding slowly. A million little fractured thoughts tried to piece themselves together unsuccessfully in my brain. They bounced around, giving me nothing to say. I felt out of sorts, a fraction of the person I knew I was.
“You know Raven is the first person who ever told me they loved me,” he said so quietly I almost missed it. “And not in a relationship kind of way. I mean ever.”
“But your mother—”
“My mom was a good woman,” he interrupted, “but she didn’t love me. She raised me with kindness and made sure I grew up to be a good man, but she didn’t love me. And she told me that any time I said I loved her. Eventually, I stopped saying it. I never said it to anyone. If my own mother couldn’t love me what the fuck did I have to offer anyone?”
Oh, my heart. Hot tears burned my cheeks as I took in the sadness on his face. No child deserved to hear they weren’t loved.
“And then there was Raven, fucking sunshine in the form of a wild blonde hurricane,” Cade continued. “I couldn’t get enough of her from the moment I met her. She came to all my games, never fucking lied about how I played, and never let me give up. I’d sit there for hours while she painted, making sure she ate and taking care of her. Baseball games, art museums, late-night food runs, studying—I’m a terrible fucking student by the way—it didn’t matter what it was, we did it together. She confused the fuck out of me because why? What did I have to offer her? And when she told me she loved me, I ended up in therapy because I didn’t know what to do with that piece of information, and I sure as hell didn’t want to fuck everything up. You know what I learned?”
“No.”
“That real love isn’t a transaction. Love isn’t about what we have to offer someone or what they can get out of loving us,” he explained. “Real love is unconditionally and freely given. Good days, bad days, and all the ones in between.”
I blew out a shaky breath and tried to keep from crying as his words cut deep. My chest grew unbearably tight as I struggled to hold it in.
