Chapter 118: Something Changed
Chapter Nineteen
Charlie
Weekends become my favorite part of the week.
I don’t admit that to anyone.
Not even myself.
Officially, I’m driving over to spend time with Jordan.
Unofficially…
Well.
I’m not ready to examine that too closely.
By the third weekend, it’s become routine.
I leave work on Friday afternoon.
Drive across town.
Pull into Cade’s driveway.
Walk through the front door without knocking because Jordan long ago declared I had “family privileges.”
Every weekend looks almost the same.
Jordan is loud.
The house smells like coffee and whatever Cade decided to cook that day.
We watch movies.
Play video games.
Order takeout when none of us feels like cooking.
It should feel ordinary.
Instead, every weekend leaves me wanting another.
Because somewhere along the way, spending time with Cade stopped feeling complicated.
At least on the surface.
Underneath…
That’s a different story.
The strange pull hasn’t gone away.
If anything, it’s gotten worse.
I still don’t understand it.
Every time our hands brush, there’s that spark.
Not painful.
Not exactly pleasant either.
Just…
Electric.
Like static before a thunderstorm.
The first time it happened, I’d convinced myself it was my imagination.
The second time, I thought maybe I’d built it up in my head.
By the tenth time…
Not so much.
Cade feels it too.
I’m sure of it.
Every single time.
His breathing catches.
His shoulders stiffen.
His eyes find mine for the briefest second.
Then he pulls away.
Always.
As if touching me for too long might cause something terrible to happen.
I don’t understand it.
But I can’t stop thinking about it.
A month ago, mornings looked different.
I’d wake before Jordan.
Walk downstairs.
Find Cade already in the kitchen with a mug of coffee in one hand and breakfast halfway started.
Sometimes we’d talk.
Sometimes we’d simply exist in comfortable silence.
Looking back, those moments became my favorite part of the day without me realizing it.
Now…
Now the kitchen is empty.
Every weekend.
Every single one.
The coffee pot still brews.
The mug still sits on the counter.
But Cade is nowhere to be found.
The first weekend, I assumed he’d slept in.
The second, I figured he was busy.
By the third…
I know better.
He’s avoiding being alone with me.
Not dramatically.
Not in a way anyone else would notice.
Just enough that I notice.
I start paying attention.
Not intentionally.
At least…
Not at first.
But once I see it, I can’t unsee it.
Saturday afternoon.
Jordan and I are sitting in the living room arguing over whether pineapple belongs on pizza.
“It absolutely does,” I insist.
“It absolutely doesn’t.”
“It adds sweetness.”
“It commits crimes.”
Before I can defend pineapple’s honor, Cade walks in carrying fresh drinks.
He sets one beside each of us.
Jordan’s phone buzzes.
“I’ll be right back.”
He disappears upstairs.
I turn toward Cade.
Perfect.
A chance to actually talk.
“Cade—”
“I should check on the laundry.”
He smiles politely.
Then walks out.
I blink.
The laundry?
Five minutes later, Jordan comes back downstairs.
“So anyway,” he says, dropping onto the couch, “pineapple is still illegal.”
Cade follows him into the room, carrying a basket of folded towels.
My eyes narrow.
Interesting.
The next weekend confirms it.
We’re sitting around the dining table after dinner.
Jordan suddenly remembers he’d left his wallet in his bedroom.
He pushes back his chair. “Let me go grab it.”
Before he’s even halfway down the hallway, Cade stands.
“I need another drink.”
I watch him disappear into the kitchen.
By the time Jordan returns, Cade is back.
Drink in hand.
Like nothing happened.
Coincidence?
Maybe.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Not anymore.
By the fourth weekend, I decided to test my theory.
Jordan is helping me unload groceries from the car.
Cade is already inside.
“I forgot the bread,” I lie.
Jordan sighs dramatically. “I’ll get it.”
Perfect.
He heads back toward the car.
I walk into the kitchen.
Cade is putting vegetables away.
He looks up.
There’s surprise in his eyes.
Then something else.
Awareness.
“Cade.”
“Charlie.”
The silence stretches.
Just a little.
I take a step further into the kitchen.
“So—”
“I should help Jordan.”
He doesn’t even let me finish.
He closes the refrigerator and walks right past me.
His shoulder brushes mine.
That familiar spark dances across my skin.
His breath catches.
Mine does too.
But he doesn’t stop.
He keeps walking.
A second later, he’s outside helping Jordan carry groceries.
I stand alone in the kitchen.
Staring after him.
Okay.
Definitely not a coincidence.
It starts happening everywhere.
If Jordan leaves the room…
Cade leaves too.
If Jordan goes upstairs…
Cade suddenly remembers something downstairs.
If Jordan heads outside…
Cade decides the yard needs attention.
It’s almost impressive.
Almost.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he had a sixth sense for avoiding being alone with me.
Except…
When we’re all together…
He’s different.
He laughs.
Talks.
Teases Jordan.
Even teases me occasionally.
He isn’t cold.
He isn’t distant.
He’s…
Comfortable.
Until we’re about to be alone.
Then something changes.
The walls go back up.
I mentioned it to Jordan one Saturday afternoon.
Casually.
Or at least I try to sound casual.
“Has your dad been acting weird lately?”
Jordan looks up from the game controller. “What kind of weird?”
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
Helpful. I know.
Jordan thinks for a moment. “Nah.”
“You sure?”
“He’s always weird.”
“I mean…” I hesitate. “He seems busy.”
Jordan snorts. “Dad’s always busy.”
Fair point.
“Maybe I’m imagining it.”
“You probably are.”
Thanks, buddy.
Very supportive.
Work doesn’t help.
If anything, it makes things worse.
Every quiet moment gives my brain time to wander.
Protein analysis becomes:
I wonder why Cade left the room so fast.
Data reports become:
Why doesn’t he drink coffee with me anymore?
Lab meetings become:
Did I do something wrong?
It’s driving me insane.
Dr. Patel notices.
Unfortunately.
“You’ve made that graph three times.”
I blink. “I have?”
“Yes.”
She tilts her head. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah.”
Lie.
Big lie.
She studies me for another second.
Then wisely lets it go.
By Sunday evening, I’m sitting on the back porch while Jordan grills burgers.
Well.
Attempts to grill burgers.
Cade keeps quietly fixing everything Jordan does wrong.
Without making him feel like he’s doing anything wrong.
It’s… impressive.
Watching them together makes something warm settle in my chest.
They’re good together.
Always have been.
Jordan says something that makes Cade laugh.
A real laugh.
Not loud.
Not forced.
The kind that reaches his eyes.
I smile without thinking.
Cade glances toward me.
For just a second.
Our eyes meet.
Something flickers between us.
Recognition.
Longing.
Something I still can’t name.
Then Jordan turns toward him.
The moment breaks.
That night, I lie awake in the guest room.
Again.
The ceiling has become strangely familiar.
My thoughts circle the same questions they’ve been circling for weeks.
Why does touching Cade feel different?
Why can’t I get enough of his enticing scent?
Why do I feel pulled toward him every time we’re in the same room?
Why does my chest tighten every time he walks away?
And why—
Why does it feel like time is running out?
I can’t explain that last feeling.
Nothing has happened.
No one has said anything.
Yet the sense of urgency keeps growing.
Like a clock is ticking somewhere just beyond my hearing.
Each weekend feels more important than the last.
Each goodbye feels harder.
Each almost-conversation feels like a missed opportunity.
I don’t know why.
I only know that whatever is happening between Cade and me is changing.
Slowly.
Quietly.
I can feel it.
So can he.
The difference is…
I don’t think he’s just afraid anymore.
I think he’s counting down to something.
And whatever that something is…
He’s trying desperately to face it alone.