He nods, rummaging through a battered tin until he finds a bag of Earl Grey. “Milk? Sugar?”
“One sugar, please.” I move closer, settling onto the barstool at the little island. My legs are still trembling, so I tuck my feet up and wrap the towel tighter.
“I saw your back.” My words are quiet, almost lost in the hiss of the kettle. “The scars… the tattoo. What happened?”
My body tenses, old reflexes kicking in. I brace myself for judgment, but Kaden’s expression is unreadable, just those dark eyes steady on mine. I catch a glimpse of his forearms—there’s a faded scar along one, and I wonder what stories he carries under his own skin.
Does he think less of me now? Does he think I’m ugly?
“It’s not a story I like sharing.” The counter is cool under my arms as I watch him pour water into two mugs, the steam curling up to fog the window. I breathe deeply, focusing on things I can feel physically in the moment, trying to ground myself.
He slides my cup across with a gentle nudge. I wrap my hands around it, letting the warmth seep into my fingers. The scent of tea soothing my mind.
An awkward pause stretches between us, heavy and uncertain. Kaden finally says, “I’m sorry that I misjudged you. There’s a lot more to you than I originally thought. Ash, I need to know... for your safety.”
“Okay.” I nod, then slide off the stool and curl up on the couch, drawing the blanket over my legs. Kaden takes the armchair, his body angled towards me, elbows on his knees, mug in hand.
“Five years ago, I was in a car accident. My mom was driving. We were running away for the weekend, on our way to CupidCity. She used to love it here, but Dad was working with the DeLucas in Detroit. Every now and then, we’d escape.” I take a slow sip of tea. My voice shakes a little.
“It was a spontaneous trip. No one was supposed to know we were on the road. But an SUV began trailing us, ran us off the road.” I squeeze my mug tighter, knuckles white. The memory flickers behind my eyes—shattered glass, the shriek of metal, the world spinning out of control.
“Your mom?”
“The car rolled, and I was thrown through the window. Mom died on impact. That’s what they told me when I woke up in the hospital. Everyone assumed I wasn’t conscious when the thug came searching the car, but I saw it, heard the shot ringing painfully through my ears. I was too far away; he didn’t see me.”
Kaden’s face is tight with shock and something else—maybe anger on my behalf. “Your father never told you the truth?”
“No. We’ve never had a great relationship, but it grew way worse after that day. I still think he might have been involved...” My voice breaks, and I swallow hard. “Anyway, that’s how I got cut up, covered in disgusting scars.” I glance away, blinking at the sting of tears. The fire crackles, and for a moment, I let myself drift with the embers, remembering my mother’s laugh, the way her hands would braid my hair.
Kaden stands and comes to sit on the sofa next to me. The cushions dip beneath his weight, and suddenly the space between us is electric. He whispers, “Your tattoo is beautiful.” His voice is so gentle that I can’t meet his eyes.
I spent a long time designing that tattoo—every line, every shade, a tribute to my mother. The scars would always be there, a reminder of all that was lost, but the ink is for her. For me. I nod, unable to say thank you.
We’re so close I can feel the heat radiating off him. I sip my tea, voice barely above a whisper. “You survived a lot.”
A half-smile tugs at my lips. “Yeah, well. Survival’s overrated.”
He reaches out, fingers uncertain, and tucks a damp strand of hair behind my ear. The touch is feather-light, but it sends a shiver down my spine. Our eyes lock, and the world seems to narrow to this little cabin, the hush, the storm outside. My breath stutters; I can feel his, hot against my cheek.
His gaze drops to my mouth. I don’t think—I just move, closing the distance and pressing my lips to his. For a heartbeat, time stops. His hands find my waist, steady and strong, and I melt into him, letting go of everything but the heat between us.
A sudden buzzing breaks the spell. I jerk back, pulse racing, hand still tangled in his shirt. Kaden pulls his phone from his pocket, checking the screen and swearing under his breath.
“Damn. Sorry, it’s an emergency, I’ve got to call him back.” He stands, squeezing my shoulder gently before stepping outside.
The loss of his warmth leaves me shivering. I set my mug on the table and wrap the blanket tighter, listening to the wind rattle the eaves. After a minute, curiosity wins out. I tiptoe to the front door, pressing my ear to the wood, but I can’t make out any words—just the low rumble of Kaden’s voice and the storm beating at the cabin.
He comes back in a rush, slamming the door against the wind. His hair is wet, cheeks flushed. “Your father is at my office, causing havoc. He’s seen the CCTV and knows you ran. He’s looking for us.”
“Fuck.” I stand, panic rising in my chest. I pace the length of the cabin, running through every possible escape scenario in my mind. My father always finds me—always. My breath comes too quickly, hands shaking as I clutch at my hair.
“He’s going to kill me. Fuck!” I kick at the coffee table, instantly regretting it. I collapse onto the couch, pulling my knees up, fighting the urge to scream.
Kaden stands in front of me, hands out in a calming gesture. “Ash—”
But the panic is here, full force, and I’m not sure anything can stop it now.
11
