Page 59 of Fly Back to Me
She rips herself from me to trek the few feet to her car, but when she reaches the door, I snake an arm in front of her. My palm latches onto the handle, her breath hitching when my chest collides with her shoulder. I shut my eyes across a breath in, and I beg myself to shake the scent of her. To extinguish the electricity that’s lighting me the fuck up right now.
I angle my chin down so my lips hover over her hair. “You’re going to stop with these mind games. If that wasn’t the original reason I came to meet you for coffee, it sure as hell is now.”
Her body twists to face me, eyes hardening to mint marbles. “Does she?”
I squint on a tight jaw, my comprehension lagging for a few silent moments until I read the subtext.
The Post-it message.
If she’s the one, does she know how lucky she is?
A double-edged sword directs itself toward me. If I lie, I protect Jenna. If I fess up with the truth, I protect myself.
And for the first time in three years, I choose the latter.
“Sometimes.”
“‘Sometimes’ isn’t a ‘yes,’” she bites out.
She thrusts the car door open, my legs kicking a few steps back from the jab of the metal. And all the while I watch her rev the engine to life and peel off, I consider the split decision I just made.
If you asked me how a man proves his love to a woman, I’d tell you it was by being selfless. Place her before everyone and everything.
But instead, I placed Jenna’s heart behind mine.
And maybe, when I accepted Olivia’s invitation here, it wasforthispurpose.
To acknowledge that Jenna’s heart isn’t worth protecting anymore.
Chapter 22
Cade
The creak of the front door filters through the kitchen around nine o’clock. My bowl of cereal is lodged between my palm and bare chest, and just as I dip another spoonful in my mouth, Jenna walks into view.
“Hey,” she greets, dropping her tote bag on the table.
“How was work?”
She sighs, surfing a hand through her blonde hair. “Exhausting. I can’t wait to sleep.”I munch on the oats, watching Jenna rummage through her tote for thermoses and empty snack containers. “Can you move? I’m going to need the sink in a second.”
I slide my lower back along the edge of the granite, making sure she has enough space.
Jenna turns, placing the used items in the sink before running the faucet. “Cade, I need the dishwasher.”
Agitation fuels her tone as she rinses the glass storage ware under the stream of water. And not once since she entered thekitchen has she looked at me.
Not once.
With one hand still cradling my bowl, I reach behind me for the stainless-steel handle of the dishwasher and open it. “Maybe you should stop picking up so many hours,” I retort, stepping off to another spot along the counter.
“I’m new. It looks good if I go in early and stay late.”
“It also looks good when you’re home.”
“I’mtired,Cade,” she exhales, purposely clattering the glass around. “I really don’t want to do this with you the second I come home.”
She bends to insert the wet containers in the dishwasher, harshly positioning them on the racks.
