As soon as Sean was out of sight, Caden jumped up, closed the distance between us with a few determined strides, grabbed my arm, and hauled me to my feet.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he growled, his face a mask of controlled ire, “Sean’s been going through hell aboutthis, and you just confirmed his worst fears. Are you that selfish in your grief?”
His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I yanked myself free from his grasp, stumbling back as tears stung my eyes, blurring my vision. The anger that had been simmering inside me boiled over, spilling out in a reckless, desperate shout.
“I hate you!” The words tore from me, ragged and bitter, echoing across the clearing. It felt like poison on my tongue, but I had to say it, I had to push him away, to make sure I wouldn’t regret leaving him.
But before I could even begin to process what I’d said, Caden was on me, crossing the distance between us again, in one swift, determined stride. His eyes blazed with a mixture of agony and ire, but beneath that, there was something else—something that terrified me as much as it pulled me in.
He pushed me back against the rough bark of the oak tree, his hand braced against the trunk beside my head, his body pinning me in place. The bark dug into my back, the edges biting into my skin, but the pain barely registered.
“Say that again,” he growled. His breath was ragged, his body so close I could feel the warmth radiating off him. The air between us crackled, charged with something undeniable.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. My throat tightened as I swallowed hard, my gaze dropping to the ground, unable to face him. My heart pounded in my chest, and I could feel the heat of his breath lingering on my skin, the closeness between us overwhelming. The rage I’d clung to—my shield—was crumbling, revealing nothing but the rawness of my emotions beneath it.
He was too close, his presence too intense, and I couldn’t hold onto my protections any longer. Finally, he let me go, stepping back just enough for the cool night air to rush in between us, the sudden space both a relief and a loss.
"That's what I thought," Caden muttered, his voice softer now, the sharpness replaced by something more resigned, almost gentle. “You want to be angry, Emma? Be angry. Scream, cry, do what you gotta do. But don’t pretend to hate the people you care about, because it’s easier to feel the pain of death.”
He wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t angry at him, or even at Sean. I was angry at myself—furious for surviving when others hadn’t, for abandoning people I’d loved without a proper goodbye. It gnawed at me, eating away at the edges of my grief.
“I never said goodbye,” I whispered, trembling under the guilt that had been festering inside me. When I finally lifted my gaze, Caden’s eyes were on me again, and I could see it—the compassion.
He sighed deeply; the sound full of understanding. “We so rarely get to say goodbye to those who die. It’s never fair, and it never feels right. But the hurt you’re feeling—it’s a testament to how much she meant to you. To your friendship. The pain won’t ever fully go away, but I promise you, the burden will get lighter. One day, you’ll carry it without breaking.”
Tears welled up in my eyes again, but this time they weren’t fueled by anger. They were the release I needed, the rough emotion I’d tried so hard to keep buried. “I’m sorry,” I sniffled, the apology both inadequate and necessary.
Caden’s lips curved into a small smile, one that radiated warmth. There was no need for him to forgive me—he had already understood. I hesitated for a moment, then stretched my arms out toward him, silently demanding for what I needed but didn’t know how to ask for—comfort.
He cocked a brow, teasing lightly, “What, like I’m your personal snugglebum now?”
“Caaadeeen,” I whined, but a small laugh bubbled up, breaking the tension.
Caden snickered, his smile growing wider.
With a dramatic sigh, he pulled me into his arms, lifted me like I weighed nothing and held me against his chest with a force that was both protective and possessive.
I wrapped my legs around his broad frame, clinging to him like a fucking koala—desperate, and unrelenting—as if I could somehow fuse our bodies together and make the moment last. His scent—familiar, intoxicating—flooded my senses, making my head spin as I breathed him in, like I was trying to etch him into every corner of my soul.
His heart thundered against my core, a wild, erratic beat that mirrored my own. “You’re leaving tonight?” he whispered, his voice raw, filled with a longing that sent a shiver down my spine.
I nodded, my face pressed into the crook of his neck, my breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. The idea of parting ways, of not feeling his warmth, his strength, suddenly terrified me.
His grip tightened, his arms like iron bands around me, as if he could hold me here by sheer force of will. He didn’t want to let go, and neither did I.
“I’ll go talk to Sean before I leave,” I murmured in a solemn promise.
I could feel him nod, but neither of us moved to break the embrace. Slowly, reluctantly, I began to untangle myself from his hold, but I kept my hands around his neck, refusing to sever the connection completely.
His gaze locked on mine and didn’t move, looking at me as if I were the most precious thing in the world, something he couldn’t afford to lose. There was nothing soft about it though—only carnal intensity, sharp and consuming.
And then it happened.
Something twisted low in my stomach—tight, hot, and immediate. It wasn’t gentle. It hit hard, like a match strikingin the dark, a jolt that sank into my skin and spread fast, heat coiling through my body in a slow, relentless wave.
Every breath felt heavier. Every cell in my body was aware of him.
It was primal, and it was fierce in its awakening.
