Page 80 of Cross Checked
Not the idea of him. Not the hockey-player fantasy. Not the campus-god version girls whispered about between classes or filmed from the stands during open practice.
Him.
The guy who had washed potatoes in my kitchen and asked what answer I accepted when I said I was the baby of the family. The guy who had seen Luke for who is really is and somehow knew the words “I’m fine” did not belong anywhere near the truth. The guy who stopped when I said stop. The guy who asked before taking. The guy who had looked at me from that closet tonight like my staying had almost wrecked him.
I pressed my face harder into the pillow and let out one pathetic, muffled sound. Because fighting it was starting to feel stupid. Not safe. Not simple. Not smart.
But stupid.
My phone buzzed again.
CADE: don’t disappear on me now
I rolled onto my back, Cade’s hoodie bunched around my thighs, the fabric still smelling faintly like him. Clean laundry. Cold air. Something warmer underneath that made me hate myself a little because I pulled the collar closer to my nose before I could stop it.
ME: I’m not disappearing
CADE: then talk to me
ME: I am talking to you
CADE: no you’re hiding behind jokes and avoiding today happened
My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I hated him a little for that. Mostly because he was right.
ME: it’s confusing
CADE: is it?
The tiny bubble disappeared.
Then came back.
CADE: or are you scared because it isn’t?
My stomach flipped so hard I had to set the phone against my chest for a second.
Rain tapped softly against the window. Somewhere down the hall, Aura’s TV had dipped into the kind of muffled dialogue that meant she had probably fallen asleep withNetflixjudging her life choices. My room glowed soft from the twinkle lights strung around the ceiling, gold light catching across the edge of my laptop and the discarded pile of notes I had absolutely no intention of reading now.
My whole world had gotten very small. Just my bed… My phone… And Cade on the other side of the screen.
ME: I’m scared because I know exactly what I want and I keep trying to rationalize it into something else
The typing bubble appeared immediately.
Stopped.
Appeared again.
Stopped.
I bit my lip so hard it almost hurt.
CADE: say it
My breath caught. Of course he wouldn’t let me drop the truth halfway between us and then step around it like it wasn’t there. Cade Mercer did not do halfway. Not with hockey. Not with focus. Not with me.
ME: Cade
