by Laura Kaye
“Count on it,” Bear said. They hung up.
Sitting in her car in the darkness, Makenna finally gave into the tears she’d been holding back all week.
* * *
His Jeep parked in a spot behind Makenna’s building, Caden didn’t know what he was doing there. He head and his heart were still a fucked-up wreck, and he had no idea what he’d even say if he saw her. He had no more clarity, no more certainty, no more faith in himself than when he’d left there Tuesday night. And the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her more than he’d undoubtedly already done.
All he knew was that he’d been drifting through life for days—more ghost than human—until he’d finally gravitated there.
Like she was the sun to his dark planet.
Not at all sure he was doing the right thing—for her—he hauled his ass out of the Jeep and made his way to her place. By the stairs again, offuckingcourse.
His head had gotten so bad that he’d not only admitted just how bad to his captain, but he’d taken a leave of absence. For the first time in nine years of doing this job, he didn’t feel that he was fully competent, and the last thing he wanted was to make a mistake that would cost someone everything. He wouldn’t be able to live with that.
And he was holding on by a very thin string.
He’d also given in and gone to the doctor for meds, and even went back to see his old therapist. Dr. Ward was in his late forties now, and his hair was a little grayer and his waistline a little wider, but otherwise, he looked pretty much like Caden remembered.
So far, Caden had only had one session with the guy, and it had worsened his nightmares. Talking had always been like that for him—stirring shit up so that it got worse before it got better. But he had to try something. Because feeling like this wasn’t tenable.
When Caden got to the apartment door, he knocked. Waited. Knocked again. He had a key, of course, but given how he’d left things on Tuesday night, he thought he owed her the respect of knocking. When she still didn’t answer after knocking a third time, he let himself in.
Everything was quiet and dark—only the under-counter lamp in the kitchen threw off any light.
Caden heaved a deep breath. An ache ballooned inside his chest. An ache for Makenna. He missed her something fierce. It felt like a part of himself had been ripped away, the edges still jagged and raw. But that’s what he was—all jagged, raw, festering wounds from one loss after another.
And it didn’t seem like a single one of them had healed.
He wandered through the darkness and into her bedroom. He sat down on the bed. Makenna’s scent was stronger here. Her vanilla skin lotion. Her strawberry shampoo. The coconut hand cream she rubbed on before bed each night. He breathed those hints of her in, needing to carry some small part of her with him.
Knock, knock, knock.
Frowning, Caden forced himself up and to the front door. A quick peak through the spyhole revealed a delivery man of some sort. Caden opened the door.
“Makenna James?” the delivery man said. At his feet sat a huge vase of red roses.
“She’s not home,” Caden said, staring at the flowers.
“Would you please sign for me then, sir?” He thrust a clipboard at Caden, who scrawled an unintelligible line at the X. The guy retreated down the hall.
Caden bent down and grasped the crystal vase. Carried it to the kitchen counter, the door slamming closed behind him. Placed it down. And stared some more—at the little envelope sitting among the fat, red blooms.
With a sinking feeling in his gut, he pulled the envelope free and opened it. The card read:
Take as much time as you need. I’ll be here. And I love you. ~CH
CH. Cameron Hollander. Sonofafuckingbitch.
Without returning the card to the envelope, Caden slipped both back into the plastic holder, his gaze glued to the other man’s words.
Caden hadn’t been able to deal with Makenna saying she loved him and hadn’t been able to give her the words back, yet here was Cameron giving them to her again and again. Which was exactly what Makenna deserved.
Jesus Christ. Hands braced against the counter, Caden found himself having to breathe through a sudden clenching tightness in his chest.
Makenna deserved…someone like Cameron. Someone whole, someone unbroken, someone with his shit together. Caden was not that man. Hell, right now, Caden wasn’t even the man Makenna had met in that damn elevator. At best, he was a ghost of his former self, and that guy hadn’t even been fully squared away.
Maybe Makenna didn’t want Cameron like she once did, but she deserved someone who could do what Cameron could—and what Caden couldn’t.
And that was all Caden needed to know.
Disappointment and frustration and sadness and anger whirled inside him. He forced himself away from those fucking flowers before he hurled them across the room just for the satisfaction of seeing them shattered and broken—a mirror of how he felt inside.
Not quite sure what he was doing, he stalked back to the bedroom. Flicked on the light. Stood there. On the nightstand next to his side of the bed lay a military thriller he’d been reading a few pages at a time before going to sleep.
He grabbed it.
Suddenly, he was grabbing everything of his that was there. Uniforms. Clothes. Shoes. Toiletries. He didn’t deserve to be in Makenna’s life, not when he couldn’t give her what she needed, what she wanted, and what she deserved. He had to do the right thing. For her.
His chest in a vise, he stuffed all of his belongings into a black trash bag.
Standing in the middle of the kitchen, he stared at the fucking flowers one last time. And then he left a note—and his apartment key—on the counter beside them.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A little after ten o’clock, Makenna finally made her way home. After leaving the firehouse, she’d driven to her favorite Mexican restaurant and had dinner sitting at the bar—a table for one just feeling more depressing than she could stand. Next, she’d gone to the bookstore for a while, but finally left when she realized she was browsing the bargain books for thrillers Caden might like.
Opening the apartment door, the first thing she noticed was that the overhead kitchen light was on. As was her bedroom light. “Caden?” Her heart swelled inside her chest as an ocean of sheer relief rushed through her. “Caden?” she called again as she hurried back to the bedroom.
But the place was empty.
She returned to the kitchen. Because the second thing she’d noticed was a huge vase of roses sitting on the counter. Among the blooms, she could just make out the words, I love you. ~C
“Oh, God,” she said, her throat going tight. Caden had been there. He’d come to tell her he loved her. And all the while she’d been avoiding coming home.
Makenna pulled the card from the plastic holder. And her stomach dropped to the floor.
Take as much time as you need. I’ll be here. And I love you. ~CH
CH. Freaking Cameron. Crap.
Makenna’s shoulders sagged. Not Caden. Not Caden, after all.
And then she noticed something else.
A note next to the vase. Dread skittered over her skin as she lifted and read it.
You may not want him, but you deserve more than me.
It wasn’t signed, but she didn’t need it to be. Makenna recognized Caden’s handwriting. And beneath the note lay his apartment key.
Caden had been there.
She frowned, her thoughts racing. You deserve more than me? What did that even mean? And why did he relate it to Cameron, whose card he’d obviously opened and read? And why had he left his key?
Dread wrapped around her now like a second skin. Caden’s note and key clutched tightly in her hand, she walked back to the bedroom. Slowly, tentatively, like something might jump out at her. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for as she stepped into the room. Everything looked the same as when she’d left this morning.
Then Makenna walked into the bathroom. It only
took a split second for her to notice what was different. Her toiletries were the only ones on the counter. His toothbrush, toothpaste, and razor were gone. She opened the medicine cabinet. His floss, mouthwash, and shaving cream were gone. Pulling back the shower curtain revealed that his body wash was no longer there.
A raw ache settled into her chest. “No,” she said, rushing into the bedroom again. “No, no, no.” She flung open the walk-in closet door. Caden was a pretty basic guy when it came to clothes. A few pair of jeans, a few shirts, his uniforms. So he’d never taken up much space in her closet. But what space his things had taken was now vacated. His clothes and shoes were gone.
“No, Caden, no,” she said, tears straining her voice. Don’t give up. Don’t give up on us. “Damnit.”
Makenna raced back to the kitchen and fished her cell from her purse. She called Caden. Again and again it went to voicemail until she finally gave in and left a message. “Caden, please talk to me. What’s going on? I don’t understand. I’m here for you. Please just let me in. Whatever it is, we can fix it.” She debated for a long moment, and then she added, “I love you.”
She pressed End and hugged the phone to her chest.
Numbness settled over her. Numbness and denial.
Without getting changed, she lie down on her bed, phone in hand. Call me. Call me. Call me.
The next time she opened her eyes, the first gray light of day spilled through her windows. She woke up her phone to see she hadn’t missed any calls or texts.
He’d packed up and walked out of her life, and he wasn’t returning her messages.
As Makenna lay there in the darkness, she couldn’t help but face the truth of what was happening. What had happened. Caden had left her because he thought she deserved something more than him. Caden had left her because he didn’t think he was enough for her. How many times had he said something along those lines? And he was still saying it, despite the fact that she’d told him she loved him, that she was in love with him, and that she couldn’t imagine her life without him.
If those sentiments weren’t enough to make him believe that she wanted him—wanted them—she didn’t know what else she could possibly say or do to convince him.
Makenna’s numbness wore off in a cold rush.
Pain lanced through her blood until she was consumed by it. Her heart. Her head. Her soul. Curling into a ball, she sobbed into her pillow. She cried for herself. She cried for Caden. She cried for what they’d been—and everything they could’ve been still.
And then she thought of the baby—and of the fact that Caden didn’t even know it existed—and she cried for the little life they’d made, too.
What was she going to do?
What were they going to do? Her and the baby.
She didn’t know. Not yet. But she was going to have to figure it out. She was going to have to be strong for her son or daughter. And for herself.
And she would. But today she was going to let herself grieve. Because it wasn’t every day that she lost the love of her life.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
All weekend, every time Caden woke up, he played Makenna’s voicemail.
Caden, please talk to me. What’s going on? I don’t understand. I’m here for you. Please just let me in. Whatever it is, we can fix it. Pause. I love you.
He dragged the little arrow backward with his thumb. I love you.
And again. I love you.
And again. I love you.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Caden couldn’t do anything but sleep. Even though nightmares tormented him. Even though his muscles ached from lack of use. Even though life passed him by.
Although that hardly seemed to matter. Ghosts weren’t alive anyway.
Every so often, he got up long enough to take a piss, choke down his meds, and stare aimlessly into his refrigerator. Sometimes he ate. Sometimes he watched television.
But then his thoughts and his fears and his failures became too painful to endure.
So he went back to bed.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The banging wouldn’t fucking stop.
At first Caden thought it was his head, which would’ve been par for the goddamned course, but then he heard someone shouting his name. Over and over and fucking over.
Dragging himself from bed was an effort he barely had the energy to make. He shuffled out of his room and down the steps, his legs feeling weak, his muscles aching from disuse.
He looked through the spyhole. “Fuck,” he bit out.
“I’m not leaving until you open this door,” his captain yelled. “I’ll break it down if I have to.”
Pound, pound, pound.
Caden knew Joe Flaherty enough to know he was good to his word. And that he’d broken down more than one door in his career as a firefighter.
Kicking aside the big pile of mail that had collected on the floor under the mail slot, Caden unlocked and opened the door, just a little. “Captain. What can I do for you?”
“Let me the hell in,” Joe said, pushing the door open further and stepping in to Caden’s living room. “Jesus fucking Christ, Grayson.” The older man stared at him, his expression shocked.
Caden looked down at himself, at his bare chest and stomach and the dark gray sweatpants hanging loosely on his hips. “What?”
Joe’s eyes widened. “What? What? Are you telling me you don’t know you’re a goddamned skeleton?” He raked his hand through his graying hair. “I called. Over and over. But I knew I should’ve come sooner.”
Confused, Caden shook his head. “I don’t…I’m sorry…what—”
“Do you have any idea what day it is?” Joe asked, hands planted on his hips.
Caden thought about it. And thought some more. He tried to remember the last time he knew what day it was. He’d left Makenna’s on a Friday. And then slept for days. He’d tried to get up for an appointment with his therapist, but hadn’t been up to it. That had been on a…Thursday? And he’d been up some other times for a bite to eat or to stare mindlessly at the television. But…uh, no. He had no idea. Rubbing his hand over his scar, he shrugged.
Joe turned on the lamp beside the couch and sat heavily. “Sit down, Caden.”
Frowning, Caden shuffled to the couch. Sat. Braced his elbows on his knees. God, his head was heavy.
“What’s going on?” Joe asked, his face a mask of concern.
Caden shook his head. “Nothing.”
The other man’s expression slid into a scowl. “Do I need to take you to the emergency room? Because I will haul your ass out of here in a heartbeat—”
“What? No.” Caden scrubbed his hands over his face. “I know I’m off right now, but I’m…I’ll…” He shrugged again, not knowing what to say. He’d walked out on Makenna mid-spiral and hadn’t been able to do anything but hold on until he hit bottom. Was he there yet? Hell if he knew. Although he could hardly imagine feeling much worse than he did just then. Physically, emotionally, mentally.
Everything fucking hurt, like he was agony personified.
“You’re off? You’re not off, Caden. You’re clinically depressed, if I had to guess. And looking at you, I really don’t need to do that. What have you lost? Twenty pounds? Thirty? Jesus. When was the last time you ate?”
“I…I don’t…I can’t keep anything down.” Caden dropped his gaze to the floor. “But I’m not hungry anyway.”
“Of course you’re not. That’s the depression. Fuck, I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I should’ve known…” Joe heaved a breath. “How bad is it?”
Caden kept his eyes down. Really bad. Way worse than it’d been when he was eighteen. Or maybe he was misremembering just how empty and painful and isolating and pointless and worthless depression had previously made him feel. “Bad,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper.
“Thoughts of hurting yourself bad?” Joe asked.
Humiliation roiling through his gut, Caden couldn’t look Joe in the eye. Yeah, he had those thoughts. T
he ones that sometimes taunted him with the promise of freedom from all this fucking misery. He hadn’t considered them seriously, but he couldn’t deny having them.
“Shit. Okay. What are we going to do about this?”
“We?” Caden’s gaze cut to his captain.
“Yeah, we. You think I’m leaving you alone like this? You’re coming to my house today, and tomorrow you’re either going to your doctor or to the hospital. And I’m taking your ass. And I’ll keep taking you until you get this under control. In fact, I’ll help you pack a bag. You’re staying with me until we turn this thing around.” Joe arched a brow and nailed him with a stare.
“Cap—”
“None of that’s up for discussion, Grayson. In case that isn’t clear.” Joe glared at him, but it was a glare Caden had seen many times before, when something hadn’t gone quite right on a call—one born of concern, and maybe even a little fear.
“Okay,” Caden said, too tired to fight the man. “I got meds, but I’ve missed some.”
“Did you take one today?” Joe asked. Caden shook his head. “Then do it. How long have you been on them?”
He’d gone back to his therapist the day before he’d walked out of Makenna’s life. “The tenth, I think it was.”
Joe nodded. “Good. That’s good. Even if you’ve missed some, that’s two weeks’ worth of medicine. Fucking shame antidepressants take so long to build up in your system. But at least you have a jump on it.”
“Wait,” Caden said, frowning. “Two weeks?” His eyes went wide. “Shit. What day is it?” His leave of absence ended on the twenty-third so he could take shifts to let the guys with families have the Christmas holidays off.
His captain clasped him on the back of the neck and gave him a look filled with so much compassion that Caden actually got a little choked up. “It’s Christmas, Caden.”
Christmas? Christmas?
“Fuck,” he said, shoving into a standing position. Adrenaline punched through his system, leaving him wired and wobbly. “I…I’m sorry…fuck…I can’t believe…I missed…everything.”
