Chapter 67 You or no one
My fingers are shaking, just a fraction, but I manage to slide the vial into my pocket, the cold plastic settling against my thigh. It’s back where it belongs. Kaden’s eyes track the motion, his gaze lingering on my pocket for a second too long before he flicks his eyes back up to mine.
I turn away, the tension in my shoulders screaming, and walk to the marble vanity. I twist the chrome handle, letting the water run until it’s ice-cold. I scrub my hands, trying to wash away the scent of the detergent and the feel of the wet fabric.
Through the reflection, I can see him. He hasn't moved. He’s staring at my back with an intensity that makes the hair on my neck stand up. I hold his stare, letting the silence thicken until it’s suffocating. "Thought I asked you to wait outside."
"You did."
He doesn't look like he’s planning to leave. Then, quieter, he adds..."I was worried."
I don’t like that he thinks he has any reason to be. It’s the last thing I need from him, it implies vulnerability. I dry my hands and walk to where I dropped his sneakers. I pick them up, brushing nonexistent lint off the sides.
“Worried why?” I ask lightly. “Everything’s fine.”
I close the distance between us, holding the shoes out like a peace offering, or perhaps a dismissal. Kaden doesn't take them. He keeps his eyes locked on mine, his expression unreadable, and I can feel the questions mounting behind his gaze.
"What are they for?" he asks.
My pulse hammers against my jaw. I glance down at the sneakers, then back up, my eyes narrowing. "You don't want them anymore?"
"Not the shoes," he says, his voice low. "The pills."
My jaw ticks, it's an involuntary spasm. The pain in my arm is already receding, the drug humming through my system, but the mental fog is still there, thick and dangerous. I don't answer him immediately. I just drop the sneakers from my fingers, they land with a soft, dull thud on the marble, sounding far too loud in the quiet of the room. I straighten up, forcing my shoulders back until I’m towering over him, trying to reclaim some of the ground I feel I’ve lost.
"Is that it?" I ask, my voice devoid of the warmth I’d been playing with earlier. "Is that the question you're going with for our little agreement?"
He just tilts his head, that infuriatingly calm look still plastered across his face. He takes a half-step toward me, closing the distance until I can see the pulse at the base of his throat. "Why?" he asks. "Will you lie if I say it's not?"
I don't flinch, even as his proximity threatens to shred my composure. I force a thin, humorless smile. "I don’t lie, Kaden. You should know that about me by now."
"Maybe," he says softly. "But I've seen you take them a number of times. I’m just curious."
I let a dangerous, playful edge sharpen my voice as I step into his space. "Oh, is that what you are?"
"Are you sick or something?" He asks, his voice dropping into that quiet, assessing register that for some reason, makes me want to scream. My thumb brushes the edge of the bottle through the fabric of my pocket, feeling the jagged edges of the ruined label.
"They're painkillers,"
"For what?"
I let out a long sigh, the kind that usually signals the end of a conversation. I don't have the bandwidth for this brand of concern, and I certainly don't have the patience to be studied under a microscope.
"For pain, Kaden," I say, my eyes darkening. "Is the interrogation over?"
He pulls back, his expression tight, almost hurt. "I was just asking. No need to get so defensive."
I stare at him, feeling the pills start to mask the last of the tremors in my hands. A sudden, hollow weight settles in my chest...a wave of guilt that feels less like remorse and more like a crack in the foundation. Kaden isn't prying for leverage, he’s just worried. There’s no rational reason for him to care, not when all I've been doing is pushing him into corners and baiting him. But he seems to regardless.
I give a small, jerky shrug, the kind that’s meant to minimize, though it feels flimsy even to me. I glance around the room and then back at him.
"It's my arm," I say, keeping my voice steady. "Old injury. It flares up from time to time, and when it does... I need them."
He doesn't look away. "What happened to it?"
My first instinct is a reflexive, violent urge to deflect. I want to twist the conversation back onto him, to find a way to divert away from my own history. And that instinct sits too close to something else. Something I don’t entertain that makes my heart kick against my ribs. Panic.
And I don’t panic....
I inhale slowly instead, forcing my shoulders to stay loose, my expression unchanged.
"It was an accident," I say, my tone stripped of all flourish. "Years ago. A fracture that never quite set the way it was supposed to."
He nods slowly, his eyes fixed on mine, then he glances around the room again, his gaze lingering on the medicine cabinet, then back to my face. I try to gauge the look, to map his thoughts, but I’m blind. And I hate the way he’s watching me like I’m a puzzle he’s already solved but isn't quite ready to put away.
"Sorry to hear that," He eventually says. It’s quiet, and for whatever reason, it hits me with the force of a gut punch.
I clear my throat, the air in the room suddenly too thin, too recycled. I still feel cornered. I thought I wanted him here, but now that the reality of it is settling in, I realize I’ve made a mistake. I need the silence back. I need the sanctity of my own house returned to me, empty and untouchable.
I check my watch. My mind is already halfway through the exit strategy. "I'll have George pull the car around. He’ll get you to your place."
"No."
I blink, thrown off my rhythm. "What?"
"I said no," he repeats, voice flat. "I want you to do it."
I start to shake my head, the refusal already on my tongue. "I’m not in the state to drive, Kaden. I just told you—"
He moves, closes the distance between us in one step, invading my space until I’m forced to tilt my head back just to keep his eyes in focus. He’s right there, smelling of clean air, and the lingering scent of my own clothes.
"It’s either you or no one."