"I know," Tristan admitted, his voice low. "But it would make me feel safer."
Cade wavered. The rational part of his brain screamed at him to retreat, to get as far from this temptation as possible.
"Please."
The single word and the fear in Tristan's expression triggered some primal need in Cade that compelled him to protect the other man, to make him happy, to keep him safe.
As if it were his duty to do so.
What the fuck was happening to him?
Instead of pondering that question in any detail, he pointedly set it aside and climbed into the bed. Tristan flicked off the light, and Cade felt the mattress shift and the covers rustle. He could feel Tristan's breath on his cheek and resisted the urge to reach out and pull him close.
It was difficult.
Neither spoke, but Cade couldn't manage to close his eyes and instead listened to Tristan's breathing for signs he was asleep.
The whispered words startled him. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For being here."
Cade paused, feeling awkward, before softly replying, "You're welcome."
He waited, sensing there was more, until Tristan rasped out, "If I came face to face with one of those monsters who took her, who did those things to her, I'd kill him. Does that make me a bad person? That I want them dead? All of them?"
"No. I think that makes you normal."
"I would kill them all if I could. For what they did to Natalie and those other girls." Cade could hear the venom in Tristan's voice.
"You won't have to. I'll do it for you."
"You will?"
"I promise you I will kill them all. I'll make them pay." Cade did not take the vow lightly. He meant it. His mission in life would be to take out these scumbags, to eliminate every one of them. However long it took.
Because, sometime in the last few days, this case had become personal. Tristan's suffering was too close, too tangible, and Cade would dole out justice for him rather than some abstract, faceless victims.
"You can't promise that."
"I can. We won't give up. We won’t stop until we make sure they can never hurt anyone else."
Tristan didn't respond right away, and they lay there lost in their own thoughts. Finally, he whispered, "Thank you. That means a lot to me."
The simple words flustered Cade. He didn't think anyone had ever expressed real, heartfelt thanks to him before.
He cleared his throat. "Just doing my job."
Tristan chuckled softly. "Okay," he said, and Cade suspected once again that he saw through his façade, even in the darkness.
After that, they both fell silent and slept.
Cade woke early the next morning and cursed the sheer curtains of the cabin that did nothing to block the brightness from outside. Lying on his back, he threw an arm over his eyes. It took him a minute to remember who slept next to him, and he lifted his arm and peeked over.
Tristan lay on his side, facing Cade. The sunlight glinted off his hair, forming a halo of light, and his copper eyelashes, usually difficult to make out in normal lighting, appeared long and delicate. At this distance, he could count the freckles dusting Tristan's nose and cheeks.
He looked relaxed and innocent, and it reminded Cade why he needed to rein himself in. Tristan was kind and gentle. He appreciated the beauty in butterflies and trees. He took care of his sister and mourned their mother. He was smart and capable and could do anything he wanted in life.
