by Laura Kaye
He stared at her for a long moment, his brain struggling to catch up, to process. “You want to move into the townhouse with me?”
“Well.” Makenna gave a shy little shrug, one that revealed just how much she wanted it. “I’ve just been thinking about it.”
Caden swallowed around a constriction in his throat. She wanted to move in together. Permanently. For a moment, it felt like maybe there wasn’t enough air, but he forced a couple of deep breaths. The idea wasn’t that big of a deal since they’d pretty much been living together. Right? Though, it took things to a whole other level. And it also took away his ability to retreat into his own space if he fell apart like he had this weekend. That realization sunk tension deep into his shoulders.
“Makes sense, I guess,” he managed. “Let’s think about it and decide what’s best.”
She twisted her lips. “Okay,” she said. “It just doesn’t seem to make as much sense to keep a smaller place when you have such a nice house right by where you work.”
He braced his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together. And tried to ignore the pool of anxiety threatening to bubble up inside him. “Although it’s further away from yours.”
“True, but I don’t mind,” she said, her hands fidgeting on the table top.
“Well, like I said, let’s think about it. Your place is a lot homier than mine.”
Makenna smiled and waved a hand. “That’s just because you haven’t decorated much. But once we moved some of my furniture in and maybe did some painting and hung some pictures, your place would be homey, too. Your townhouse is great, Caden.”
Tightness parked itself in the center of his chest. Why was she pushing on this right now? And why did it make him feel like the walls were closing in on him? “Okay,” he said, picking up his plate and getting up from the table. “Dinner was great, by the way. Thank you.” He walked into the kitchen, needing space so he didn’t flip out when his stress really had nothing to do with her or her idea. He was just in a bad fucking place to be thinking about permanence, which made him feel like an asshole.
She followed him. “Gah, I’m going about this all wrong.”
“Going about what?” he said, that rock getting a little bigger in his gut.
Makenna closed the distance between them, her hands falling on his chest, her baby blues looking up at him with so much affection. For a moment, she appeared to struggle for words, and then she said, “God, I’m being a tongue-tied idiot right now.”
“Whatever you have to say, just say it,” he said, dread prickling like ice all down his spine. Her unusual nervousness spiked the anxiety inside him and tightened the knot in his chest, making his breathing shallow out.
“Okay. Here goes. Caden, I…I love you. I love you so much that I can barely remember my life before you. I love you so much that I can’t imagine my life without you. I’ve been dying to tell you, but I know we haven’t been together that long. Though, to me, the number of weeks that I’ve known you feels completely meaningless to how attached my heart has become,” she said, her voice urgent and so damn earnest. “I love you. And I’m in love with you. That’s what I really wanted to say.”
He heard the words as if through a long tunnel. They came to him slow and detached, as if his brain had to translate them from some other language to one he could understand, to one he could trust.
Makenna loved him.
Makenna had said the words. Words her actions had been communicating for weeks. Hell, maybe more.
The gates that held back the darkness in his psyche had been badly battered the past few days, and hearing her declaration destroyed what was left of them. All his fears, all his doubts, all his insecurities came rushing forth until he was drowning, suffocating, going under fast.
On the face of it, his reaction made no sense because she’d given him what he wanted—her love, her commitment. But it was getting what he wanted that made him so afraid.
Because deep inside, he was the fourteen-year-old boy who believed he should’ve died so his twelve-year-old brother—the best friend he’d ever had—could live. He was the kid sick with survivors’ guilt who desperately wanted his father to acknowledge him instead of choosing to abandon him. He was a man who’d been taught that life didn’t give you what you wanted, or if it did, it took it away again.
The past. Anxiety. Fucked-up fears. Caden knew it, but he couldn’t fight it. His heart wasn’t whole. His feet weren’t steady. His brain wasn’t right.
He wasn’t right. And in that state, he didn’t trust himself with loving her.
He grasped her hands and pulled them away from his chest. “Makenna, I—” But no further words came out, because it was like his brain had frozen. He knew what he felt, but he didn’t know what to say. How to put it into words, or whether he even should. He was fucking paralyzed.
“You don’t have to say it back,” she said, something sad and maybe even a little disappointed flashing through her eyes. “I didn’t say it with an expectation that you would say it back.”
So she’d expected him to fail her. And that’s what he was doing. Like he needed more proof that she deserved better.
He gasped a breath, all the stress of the past week crashing down on him like a ton of bricks. Or maybe it was more like a house of cards, because in this moment Caden felt like a fucking fool to have ever believed that he was capable of being one of two when his half of that equation was so damn damaged.
“Makenna, it’s just, this is all…” Shaking his head, he stepped back, out of her grasp. His skin was suddenly too sensitive to allow her touch. Hell, the clothes on his back felt too rough, too heavy, too confining. “It’s just a lot. It’s just fast,” he said, not even sure of the words coming out of his mouth.
A look of hurt flashed across her pretty face, and even though she tried to hide it, tried to recover, he knew what he’d seen. “It doesn’t have to mean anything—”
“Yes, it does,” he bit out, hating that his emotional bullshit was making her discount her feelings. To try to make him feel better. “It means fucking everything.” He grasped at his chest, the lack of oxygen setting off a burn right in the center. His head throbbed out a punishing downbeat.
“Caden—”
“I’m sorry,” he said, wincing as he tried to suck in a deep breath. “I can’t…I gotta…go. I just need some space. Okay? Some time?” His fight or flight instinct was kicking him in the ass. Hard. “I…just need some space. I’m sorry.”
Then he was out the door, his whole world imploding around him. Because he’d probably just destroyed the best thing he’d ever had. But maybe that was as it should be, since he clearly couldn’t handle it anyway.
And Makenna deserved someone who could.
Chapter Thirteen
Makenna stared at her apartment door, the sound of it closing still echoing loudly all around her. What the hell just happened?
She clutched her stomach, just that moment realizing she’d never even gotten to the point of telling Caden about the baby. And, Christ, how was she supposed to do that now? When hearing that she loved him sent him into a full-out panic attack. Never in all the time she’d known him had she ever seen his face go so pale and distant and just…blank out like that. Like she was looking at a shell of the man she knew.
Given how marked by abandonment he was, she’d always worried that hearing her say she loved him might trigger his anxiety. But she never thought it would be this bad.
On instinct, she dashed for the door and wrenched it open, but the hall was empty. She sagged against the door jamb and stared at the emptiness.
Every urge within her told her to run after him. But he’d asked for time and space. Would going after him make things worse? Would it push him away? Was it worth the risk?
The thing was, Makenna understood a lot about how Caden reacted to things. And, after doing some reading on the subject, she understood a lot about how his anxiety and PTSD worked—that didn’t mean she always kne
w how to handle it, and she certainly had no imaginings that she could fix it, but she understood that he faced these struggles. Hell, his need for a distraction from his claustrophobia and anxiety was what had led them to get to know each other in the first place.
And she didn’t love him despite of all of his issues, she loved him because of them. Or, rather, because they were part of who he was. And she loved who he was. With everything she had.
Which meant she should probably give him the space he needed. Even if it left her heart an aching, bruised mess.
She walked back into her kitchen and let the door fall closed behind her.
Dropping her head into her hands, Makenna fought back tears. She’d gone about that conversation all wrong. At the table, she’d gotten nervous about the big things she had to tell him so she’d blundered into the conversation about moving in together. Which no doubt must’ve seemed to Caden like it came from out of left field. And then she’d piled on her feelings.
“Okay, don’t panic,” she said to herself. Her words sounding loud in the quiet space. “He’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.” She just had to keep telling herself that for however long he needed.
Desperate to keep busy, she mechanically worked through putting the sauce and meatballs into bowls for lunch and to freeze, and then she dove into doing the dishes.
When she was done, she gave in to the yearning inside her and sent Caden just one text:
Take as much time and space as you need. I’ll be here no matter how long that is. xo
She hit Send and then went to bed, hoping against hope that he’d feel better in the morning.
But the morning didn’t bring any word from Caden. Nor did the afternoon, or the next night. Or any day that week. By Friday night, Makenna was a wreck of worry and heartache. She couldn’t bring herself to go home and face her empty apartment. She was worried for him that he was in such a bad place, and she was worried for herself that it might be so bad he’d never make his way back to her.
And she didn’t know what to do.
So she went back to her apartment building to get her car. She wasn’t sure where she was going or what she was even thinking. Or maybe that was just kidding herself. Because within twenty-five minutes, she was driving down Caden’s street, and then past his small cul-de-sac. She slowed down enough to see that his place was dark and his Jeep wasn’t parked in its usual spot. So next she made her way to the Station 7 Firehouse just a few blocks away.
His Jeep wasn’t there either.
Her car idling along the curb on the far side of the street, Makenna stared at the building, a golden glow spilling out into the street from some of the windows.
Part of her was sorely tempted to go in and see if any of the guys knew where she might find him. Or at least knew how he was. Had he even been going to work? But another part of her worried that going to his job to ask after him was crossing a line. Certainly a line that violated his request for space, and possibly one that could impact his livelihood.
She couldn’t bring herself to do it…but maybe she could call one of the guys she’d gotten to know a little better. Isaac Barrett! He’d come to her house one night for dinner with Caden and a few of the other guys, he’d often made a point of talking to her when she’d come out to the station’s softball games earlier in the fall, and he’d given her a big hug when she’d dropped cookies and brownies off at the firehouse. She wouldn’t call them close, but maybe close enough to ask a couple hopefully casual-sounding questions.
Luckily, she had his cell phone number from when he’d RSVP’d for that dinner. She found it in her contacts and pressed Send.
Two rings, then, “Hello? Bear here.”
“Bear, it’s Makenna James, Caden’s—” She momentarily got tripped up on what to call herself given what was going on between them. “—uh, girlfriend.”
“Makenna of the wonderful brownies,” he said. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Hey, I’m sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you might know where Caden is.” There. That sounded casual. Right?
“Gimme a second,” he said. Muffled words she couldn’t make out sounded in the background, and then a door closed. “I’m back. So, Caden took a leave of absence. Didn’t you know?”
A leave of absence? Makenna’s belly slowly sank as a feeling of dread spread through her. Caden was so dedicated to his job, so much so that it seemed more like a calling to him. She couldn’t imagine him walking away from it. Unless he absolutely had to. “Unfortunately, no.”
“Is he okay, Makenna?” Bear asked. “His last coupla shifts, he was running way ragged.”
“He’d been sick,” she said. “But, I don’t know, maybe there’s something else.”
“Yeah,” Bear said in a knowing voice. “I hope everything’s okay.”
“So do I,” she said, her throat suddenly thick with tears. “If you hear from him, is there any chance you’d let me know? I’m…well, I’m worried.”
“Count on it,” Bear said. They hung up.
Sitting in her car in the darkness, Makenna finally gave into the tears she’d been holding back all week.
His Jeep parked in a spot behind Makenna’s building, Caden didn’t know what he was doing there. His head and his heart were still a fucked-up wreck, and he had no idea what he’d even say if he saw her. He had no more clarity, no more certainty, no more faith in himself than when he’d left there Tuesday night. And the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her more than he’d undoubtedly already done.
All he knew was that he’d been drifting through life for days—more ghost than human—until he’d finally gravitated there.
Like she was the sun to his dark planet.
Not at all sure he was doing the right thing—for her—he hauled his ass out of the Jeep and made his way to her place. By the stairs again, offuckingcourse.
His head had gotten so bad that he’d not only admitted just how bad to his captain, but he’d taken a leave of absence. For the first time in nine years of doing this job, he didn’t feel that he was fully competent, and the last thing he wanted was to make a mistake that would cost someone everything. He wouldn’t be able to live with that.
And he was holding on by a very thin string.
He’d also given in and gone to the doctor for meds, and even went back to see his old therapist. Dr. Ward was in his late forties now, and his hair was a little grayer and his waistline a little wider, but otherwise, he looked pretty much like Caden remembered.
So far, Caden had only had one session with the guy, and it had worsened his nightmares. Talking had always been like that for him—stirring shit up so that it got worse before it got better. But he had to try something. Because feeling like this wasn’t tenable.
When Caden got to the apartment door, he knocked. Waited. Knocked again. He had a key, of course, but given how he’d left things on Tuesday night, he thought he owed her the respect of knocking. When she still didn’t answer after knocking a third time, he let himself in.
Everything was quiet and dark—only the under-counter lamp in the kitchen threw off any light.
Caden heaved a deep breath. An ache ballooned inside his chest. An ache for Makenna. He missed her something fierce. It felt like a part of himself had been ripped away, the edges still jagged and raw. But that’s what he was—all jagged, raw, festering wounds from one loss after another.
And it didn’t seem like a single one of them had healed.
He wandered through the darkness and into her bedroom. He sat down on the bed. Makenna’s scent was stronger here. Her vanilla skin lotion. Her strawberry shampoo. The coconut hand cream she rubbed on before bed each night. He breathed those hints of her in, needing to carry some small part of her with him.
Knock, knock, knock.
Frowning, Caden forced himself up and to the front door. A quick peak through the spyhole revealed a delivery man of some sort. Caden opened the door.
“Makenna James?” the delivery m
an said. At his feet sat a huge vase of red roses.
“She’s not home,” Caden said, staring at the flowers.
“Would you please sign for me then, sir?” He thrust a clipboard at Caden, who scrawled an unintelligible line at the X. The guy retreated down the hall.
Caden bent down and grasped the crystal vase. Carried it to the kitchen counter, the door slamming closed behind him. Placed it down. And stared some more—at the little envelope sitting among the fat, red blooms.
With a sinking feeling in his gut, he pulled the envelope free and opened it. The card read:
Take as much time as you need. I’ll be here. And I love you. ~CH
CH. Cameron Hollander. Sonofafuckingbitch.
Without returning the card to the envelope, Caden slipped both back into the plastic holder, his gaze glued to the other man’s words.
Caden hadn’t been able to deal with Makenna saying she loved him and hadn’t been able to give her the words back, yet here was Cameron giving them to her again and again. Which was exactly what Makenna deserved.
Jesus Christ. Hands braced against the counter, Caden found himself having to breathe through a sudden clenching tightness in his chest.
Makenna deserved…someone like Cameron. Someone whole, someone unbroken, someone with his shit together. Caden was not that man. Hell, right now, Caden wasn’t even the man Makenna had met in that damn elevator. At best, he was a ghost of his former self, and that guy hadn’t even been fully squared away.
Maybe Makenna didn’t want Cameron like she once did, but she deserved someone who could do what Cameron could—and what Caden couldn’t.
And that was all Caden needed to know.
Disappointment and frustration and sadness and anger whirled inside him. He forced himself away from those fucking flowers before he hurled them across the room just for the satisfaction of seeing them shattered and broken—a mirror of how he felt inside.
Not quite sure what he was doing, he stalked back to the bedroom. Flicked on the light. Stood there. On the nightstand next to his side of the bed lay a military thriller he’d been reading a few pages at a time before going to sleep.