He was. He was the self-absorbed asshole.
The self-recrimination crushed his chest, making it hard to breathe. Guilt burned hot in his gut, followed by worry and helplessness over Natalie, and confusion about his feelings for Cade. He dropped his face into his hands, trying to calm his suddenly queasy stomach and make sense of the dizzying deluge of emotions, but they swirled like leaves in the wind, and he couldn't latch onto any of them.
"What's wrong?" Cade asked, his voice laced with concern, his warm, rough hand stroking the bare skin of Tristan's back, calming and considerate. The gesture made him want to cry, from both anger at himself and affection for the man next to him.
"It's just … my sister. And this whole situation. And also, I like you."
The hand on his back stilled, and Tristan immediately regretted the stupid, naïve admission. Why did he have to make things complicated by talking about feelings? When had that ever worked out well for him?
Exactly never.
Keeping his face buried in his hands to hide his rising blush, he scrambled for a way out of this hole he'd dug. After several silent seconds, Cade spoke, his words hesitant and stilted. "I know you're worried about Natalie, but we're doing all we can. Annabeth will find something. It just takes time."
Believing that, at least, Tristan nodded as he prayed Cade would ignore his other words, but that hope fractured when the other man spoke again.
"About the other thing …"
"Please, just forget I said anything," he begged, his voice cracking from the mortification that joined his growing jumble of emotions.
"What? Why?"
"I just … I don't want to talk about it now, okay?"
"You? Don't want to talk?" Cade sounded incredulous.
He could appreciate the irony but didn't acknowledge it. Unwilling to meet the probing gaze he could feel burning into him, he croaked, "Please just forget it. It's nothing."
The hand on his back dropped away, and he realized his words were callous and hurtful. Another wave of guilt layered over the first, until he felt suffocated by it, unable to think clearly enough to fix the mess he'd created.
After a few heavy beats passed, Cade said woodenly, "Okay, I'll make some dinner," just before his weight lifted from the bed, and his footsteps retreated.
Tristan sucked in several deep breaths, then straightened his spine. Summoning all the mental fortitude he could manage, he boxed up his tangle of emotions, maybe not so neatly, but well enough for now.
There would be time to unpack them all when this nightmare was over.
Chapter 13: Feelings
Cade
Too agitated to cook something substantial, Cade brooded as he slapped together ham and cheese sandwiches, rehashing the uncomfortable conversation and trying to put a name to the dull ache in his chest.
When Tristan had said he liked him, the gears in his brain jammed with surprise, and he felt a zing of pleasure and warmth.
But before he could process the emotions, the words 'It's nothing'had felt like a bucket of cold water, stinging with an intensity he hadn't expected.
Because it wasn't nothing to him, not anymore.
And okay, fine, it had … hurt.
Logically, he shouldn't care if Tristan liked him or not, shouldn't be invested in the other man's feelings beyond sympathy for his status as a victim.
But the truth was, despite trying to stay professional and unaffected, Tristan had somehow wormed his way into his heart, triggering protective instincts and soft emotions he hadn't believed he was capable of.
Somewhere along the line, irritation over personal questions had morphed into fondness for Tristan's curiosity, and snarky comments and competitiveness had turned enjoyable rather than annoying. Sometime in the last few days, he had become enamored with Tristan's love of nature, and their conversations about baseball were something he looked forward to.
And all along, there had been respect and admiration for Tristan's courage, his tenacity, his fiery determination to do what was necessary for his sister.
Sighing and blowing out a long breath, Cade finally admitted the truth: he liked Tristan.
