Every instinct warned me: Caiden Baxter was forbidden territory. And yet, there were nights when I closed my eyes and pictured his arms around me, safe and steady.
I remembered him once—before anger and revenge warped our paths—innocent, kind. What might have grown between us had we never become enemies? Childhood allies who blossomed into something more?
A tender, aching thought whispered that maybe, in another life, we were already blissfully in love.
“I’ll talk to him,” I finally whispered, my voice trembling like a candle in the breeze. “But not yet. Every time I see him, I’m dragged back to that cage, to the pain.”
Sabrina reached across the couch and brushed a hand over my shoulder. “Avoiding it won’t make it hurt any less. Sometimes you have to stare pain in the face to break its power.”
I rolled my eyes, though her words stung with truth. “Ugh. Must you always be so wise?”
She laughed softly, a warm bell in the dim living room. “That’s what best friends do. I can’t let you bury yourself in misery.”
I hated that she was right.
“Is that all you came here for?” I asked, trying to shift the mood.
Her eyes danced with excitement. “Actually… Shane and I decided to move the wedding up. With everything going on, we all need a little sparkle in our lives. We’re tying the knot in two weeks. I’m hoping, you’ll still be my maid of honor?”
A genuine smile blossomed across my face, lighting me from the inside out. She deserved every ounce of happiness her heart could hold—and more.
“That’s wonderful, Sabrina. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
She squealed, hugging me so fiercely my ribs ached. “Yay! It’s going to be magical, I promise.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” I teased, nestling into her embrace.
We lingered a while longer, sipping tea and laughing softly as the evening shadows stretched.
She reminded me—again—to call Caiden, and I gave her my solemn vow.
Yet the instant her front door clicked shut behind her, doubt crept in like a chill through the cracks. I curled up beneath the blankets, the ghost of uncertainty whispering over my skin as I stared at the ceiling, lost in the cold hush of my own doubts.
THE PRESENT
CAIDEN
The basement held the hush of a life that didn’t belong to me.
Shane called it “making space.” A home. A fresh start. He said it like the words weren’t knives.
I lay on the pullout couch and stared at the underside of the stairs. The wood slats looked like ribs. Like a cage. Like the cabin, if you stripped the horror down to its bones and painted it suburban beige.
I kept hearing the knife.
Not the real one. The one I used that went in and didn’t come out clean. The one that changed the weight of my hands forever.
I thought I would feel more human once we got out. Instead, all I felt was more.
Emptier, sure. But the emptiness just made room for the hunger. It was a different kind of craving now. Raw and clawing. It made my hands shake, made my chest ache. Made everything about her a goddamn trigger.
Her shadow through frosted glass, the tiny indents her shoes left by the entryway, the shampoo she used, still clinging to the guest towels.
If I concentrated, I could hear her up there right now. I could always pick out her voice. Even if she only whispered, I would hear it. I was wired that way. Ruined that way.
Sabrina was working her usual campaign. “Please, Amelia, just stay for dinner. I already made too much?—”
A soft reply, almost impossible to catch. But I caught it: “I don’t want to be a bother. I really should?—”
