Chapter 31 There you are...
Miller gestures off to the right, launching into another explanation, something about light, about angles, about where they want the focus to land.
Kaden follows the motion automatically, turning his head in the direction he’s being pointed.
And then it happens. It’s subtle.... always is.
But I see the exact micro-second he notices me. The exact second he feels me. His body reacts before his mind catches up. It’s almost imperceptible to anyone else, just a slight pause, a fraction of stillness where there shouldn’t be any. His shoulders tighten, barely, like something unseen just brushed against him. His grip shifts on instinct, fingers curling a little firmer around the wood he’s holding. His breath hitches...not enough to draw attention, but enough that I notice.
I always notice.
Then he turns slowly. Not rushed or startled. Like some part of him already knows exactly where to look. And then we’re locked, eyes on eyes, I expect anger. I’m prepared for a snarl, maybe even a middle finger, or the cold spite of a man who was left shivering in a freezer while I fled like a coward. But as his gaze darts up and down my face, tracing the lack of sleep and the rigid set of my jaw, I don’t see fury.
I see concern. And worse....curiosity.
Two things I definitely don’t want from him. Two things that are infinitely more dangerous to me than his hate. Hate I can manage, it’s a transaction. But the way he’s looking at me now... it’s like he’s trying to find the man who was on his knees, and he isn't convinced that man is gone.
Miller snaps his fingers in front of Kaden’s face, trying to reclaim his star. He blinks, just once, like he’s pulling himself back into the moment, and turns away from me. Just like that, the spell is broken like I'm not even there.
I can’t have him distracted by anyone but me.
"Kaden."
I don’t raise my voice much. I don’t have to. But I pitch it just enough, cutting clean through the noise, through the movement, through the entire set and straight to him. He turns back immediately. Too fast this time. His eyes are a little wider now. Not just him, everyone else has gone still in that quiet, subtle way people do when they’re trying very hard to look like they haven’t.
I don’t acknowledge any of them. I don’t look away from him.
I lift a hand, just a slight motion. A beckon.
Come here...
And there it is, that flicker. Wariness and hesitation. It’s small, but it’s there. Lives right in the space between his brows, in the slight shift of his stance like he’s debating it, like he’s weighing whether or not this is a good idea.
It isn’t.
But he comes anyway.
He starts walking toward me, strides measured and controlled. His gaze flicks once around the set and I follow it. Everyone’s suddenly very busy. Adjusting lights that don’t need adjusting. Checking equipment that was fine a second ago. Looking anywhere but here.
As he gets closer, the smell of him hits me...damp earth and that clean, masculine scent that haunted my shower an hour ago. My hands instantly start itching with a violent, desperate need to reach out and touch him. I want to grab the collar of that damp white shirt and pull him into the shadows of the oak trees just to see if the concern in his eyes survives the heat.
He stops two feet away from me, close enough that I can see the individual droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes, trembling with every shallow breath he takes.
I don’t move, but it takes more effort than it should.
I can see the gears turning behind those hazel eyes. He’s gearing up to ask me something...probably the same fragile, infuriatingly human question he sent to my phone a short while ago. For a second, his guard is down, and that look of raw concern starts to bleed through again.
I can see it in the way his brows pull just slightly, in the way his gaze searches my face like he’s trying to read something I didn’t give him permission to show interest in. And then he stops himself. I watch the decision happen. It’s intentional, almost surgical. That concern flickers, then gets buried, replaced by something I recognize.
Something I prefer.
His jaw tightens. His shoulders square just a fraction more. His eyes sharpen, losing that edge of softness and settling into something colder.
Familiar irritation. Anger with a little bite behind it.
There you are....
“What do you want?” His tone's clipped and distant. My mouth curves before I can stop it. A slow, satisfied smirk.
“To get a better look at you.”
It comes out easy. Like last night didn’t crack something open that I’m still trying to force shut. Kaden holds my gaze. Doesn’t flinch or look away. And then...
"Last night wasn't enough for you? Or did the view from the floor blur your vision?"
I feel the air leave my lungs for a fraction of a second. I hadn't expected him to bring it up so willingly...to weaponize the very thing that’s currently eating me alive. I watch his eyes dart instinctively to the crew, a flash of panic crossing his face as he makes sure no one heard him. No one did, but I savor the flicker of fear in him. It makes us even.
“Stop by my office,” I say, voice lower now. Quieter. Meant for him alone. “Lunch break.
He doesn’t even hesitate this time. He gives me a hard look, eyes narrowing just slightly. “I’ll pass.”
“It wasn’t a suggestion.”
Something flashes in his eyes at that. Annoyance, maybe something more. I glance at my watch like this conversation is already over. Like he’s already made the right decision whether he realizes it or not. Then I look back at him, letting my gaze drag like I’m taking my time memorizing something I already shouldn’t want.
"You should run back to your little cheering squad. They seem quite desperate for your attention."
I don’t wait for a response or give him the space for one. I turn and walk away.