Page 75 of Caden & Theo
“What does that even mean?”
He shifts, and the slight movement pulls a groan from him. But he doesn’t stop. He’s pushing himself up a little straighter,grimacing through the pain like he’s daring me to challenge him. “It means I don’t need your pity, Theo.”
I stumble back a step like he’s struck me. “Pity?” My voice breaks. “Jesus, Cade, that’s not what this is.”
His eyes flash. “Then what is it? Guilt? Responsibility?”
“No!” I close the distance, stopping just short of the bed. “It’s love, you idiot. I love you.”
His jaw works, but he doesn’t speak.
“I love you,” I repeat. “And I’m so sorry. I know that doesn’t change anything. I know what I did—what I didn’t do—cost you everything.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. His eyes flick away from mine, toward the window. “I don’t want you here,” he says quietly.
The words tear through me like glass. I nod, swallowing past the lump forming in my throat. “Okay,” I whisper. “I get it.”
He still won’t look at me.
I back up a step, blinking fast, heart thudding like a war drum in my ears. “I’m heading home. With my parents.”
He nods, barely.
“I’ll give you space,” I say, fingers squeezing closed over the yellow firefighter I keep in my grip. “However much you need. But… I still love you.”
He’s silent for a beat. Then, bitterly, he says, “Lucky you. You get to leave.”
My breath hitches. “I’d stay,” I offer desperately. “If you wanted me to. I’d stay and be here for you. Help you through this. Anything, Caden. Anything.”
His eyes meet mine, finally. But there’s no warmth, just exhaustion and pain. So much pain. “I don’t want you here.”
The finality in his voice cuts deeper than anything else has. I nod once, then turn. The door closes softly behind me. As soon as it does, I collapse against the wall. My legs give out, and I slideto the floor. My cast bumps the linoleum. My ribs scream. But none of that matters.
Because nothing will ever be the same again.
Not for him.
Not for me.
Not for us.
SIXTEEN
THEO
Two daysuntil Gomillion High’s inaugural class reunion, and already, ghosts from the past are showing up in town like clockwork.
I saw Greg Tullman outside the gas station this morning—still wearing camo, still talking like every sentence deserves a punch line. He didn’t recognize me at first—not all that surprising since I was in the year below him. But when he did, his eyes lit up, and he clapped me on the back like the last twenty years since he graduated from high school had been a week and we were still teenagers and invincible.
I smiled, made polite noises, and left with my coffee.
Now it’s early evening, and I’m back home, sitting on the porch of the house I grew up in, nursing a beer and trying not to think too hard about what the next few days will bring. The wind’s turned crisp, just sharp enough to sneak under the hem of my hoodie. Somewhere a dog’s barking, and the high school stadium lights have just flicked off for the night, signaling the end of whatever summer program ran late.
The porch creaks beneath my foot, and I stretch it out, resting it against the peeling rail. The same rail I once leanedover while counting down the days until graduation. Back when I thought the whole world was mine.
Back when Caden was still mine.
I rake a hand through my hair and exhale breathily.
