Because those words, even though I know they’re true, hit me harder than I expected.
“Cade,” Darren says again, more firmly this time. “I’m worried. I always will be. Not just because you’re my brother, but because I’ve watched you struggle through these episodes and I’ve watched them get worse. And it feels like all I can do is stand back and watch you sink again, because you won’t let anyone get close enough to help. And youneedhelp.” He sighs, then his voice takes on a more gentle tone. “You have to know this isgetting worse… right? And you think I don’t notice the ways you try to cope with it on your own?”
I close my eyes and rub my forehead.
I know he’s right. I know everything he’s saying is true. I know I’m slipping farther than I ever have.
But that only makes it harder to face. Because he’s cornering me and shining a light on something I’ve worked hard to keep hidden in the dark.
The emptiness that lives inside me is so strong and overwhelming that I don’t even understand how something that doesn’t feel like anything can ruin everything.
I wake up tired and go to sleep pissed off. People talk to me, and it makes my teeth itch. I want them to stop caring, stop asking, and stop reminding me I’m drowning.
I don’twantto be an asshole. But when everything lands like noise and every emotion sits just under the surface waiting to snap, it’s easier to lash out than admit I’m falling apart.
“I know,” I say, trying to keep the bite out of my tone so I can just end this conversation. “Thanks.”
“Cade, look?—”
“I’ll see you this weekend,” I cut in. “Looking forward to it. But I gotta go. Have a good one.”
Then I hang up and place my hands on either side of the counter, letting my head drop as the silence of my house settles over me.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I don’twantto be like this. I don’t want to shut him out and make him feel like shit, just because he cares.
But I don’t know how to be anything else right now.
So I step forward, open the cupboard, and pour whiskey into my coffee. Then I take the bottle with me to my desk and drop into the chair.
I take a long drink as I open my computer to go over my research notes.
Might as well forget about everything else.
THIRTY-ONE
We pulloff the road onto the cracked pavement of an old abandoned gas station in the middle of buttfuck nowhere outside Quebec City, and I’m already in a bad mood. That was a long-ass drive, but there’s no way we’re hosting this meeting on our turf. The message has to be clear.
Stay the fuck out of our province.
But as Frank’s smug face comes into view, my bad mood turns downright fucking sour. He’s leaning against his bike with his arms crossed, flanked by a few of his men, and smirking at us as we pull in as if he’s already won just because we showed up.
We kill our engines, and it takes everything in me not to reach into my cut and pull my gun out as I hang my helmet on my handlebars. Because I know if I pull the trigger, it ignites a war so big, none of us would live to see the end of it.
“Thanks for meeting with us,” Frank says pleasantly, like we’re catching up over fucking brunch.
My fists tighten at my sides, but Kurt just shrugs easily. “We show up once. Don’t mistake it for interest.”
But all I can do is glare at Frank.
Frank huffs a laugh, then shifts his eyes to me and opens his arms wide in a taunting gesture. “No bars this time.”
“Just tell me where you’d like it,” I say, looking him over. “I’m overdue to put someone down for wasting my fucking time.”
Behind him, his men tense and step forward as their hands shift towards their guns, and Dom and Mac do the same next to me.
“Alright,” Kurt says, raising his hands between us, and we all pause. “No bullets will be fired today.” He shoots me a warning look, then turns to Frank. “We’re here to talk. That’s what you wanted, so talk.”
