Page 225 of Stay Scared

His mouth moves.

There is the Cade I remember from before everything between us started requiring strategy. The man who could spend forty minutes arguing that burnt cheese was intentional because admitting defeat would physically injure him.

“Mostly successfully,” he says.

I shake my head. “Still too much garlic?”

“There is still no such thing.”

“Good.”

The word leaves before I think about it.

Cade hears the difference.

He does not move closer.

That matters.

Six weeks ago, any softness from me would have become permission in his head. A laugh would have brought his hands back. One fond memory would have turned into proof that everything between us could be reclaimed if he pushed hard enough.

Now he stays where he is.

I look at his hands hanging loose at his sides.

“You could have sent me one.”

“I wanted to.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“You said stay away.”

The answer is so obvious that it hurts.

Cade looks irritated by my silence. “I nearly convinced myself food didn’t count.”

“That sounds more like you.”

“I had it boxed.”

I blink. “Seriously?”

“Friday of week two.”

“What happened?”

“I ate it in the parking lot.”

A laugh escapes me again.

Cade’s eyes stay on my face.

“I hated you a little while I did it.”

“Because I made you eat an entire pizza?”

“Because you weren’t there to tell me the crust was wrong.”