Chapter 60 I don't want to...
I walk toward the tree without saying anything else, my hand lifting almost instinctively as I reach it. My palm presses against the bark...It’s rough, cool, and feels intensely alive beneath my skin. Solid in a way that’s hard to explain.
It grounds me. Always has.
I glance up, following the stretch of its branches into the dimming sky. I used to come here all the time. Or....run here. When things got too loud, too tight, too much. This was where it quieted. For a long time, this hill, this tree, it was the only place that felt like it belonged to me. I haven’t been back as often lately. Work, expansion, acquisitions...excuses, really. But there’s something about that distance too. A twisted sort of benefit to the absence. It lets me miss the place. It makes the return, especially today, feel like I’m finally soaking it in properly.
I turn, leaning my shoulder against the trunk and crossing my arms. Kaden’s still facing the view, shoulders slightly relaxed despite the cold, like the place is working on him without him realizing it. I swallow hard, the confession sticking in my throat before I let it loose.
"This is my favorite spot," I say. My voice sounds grounded. "I pay someone to take care of this hill... this tree."
I’m not sure why I’m handing him these crumbs. I don’t do "personal." I don't give away the maps to my soft spots. But with him standing there, drenched and defiant, I can’t seem to help myself. He turns slowly, like he’s pulling himself away from the view, his gaze lifting up to the massive height of the oak. "How old is it?"
I glance up again briefly.
“My grandmother used to say it was already old when her grandfather was a child,” I answer. “So... a long time.” A ghost of her voice echoes in my head. "She said that the land grew around the tree, not the other way around."
Kaden hesitates. He shifts his weight, his voice cautious, almost gentle. "Your grandmother... is she...?"
He doesn't finish the sentence, but the implication hangs heavy in the air. A short breath leaves me, something close to a laugh as I shake my head. "No. She’s not dead. Far from it." I push off the tree slightly. "She’s currently somewhere in the Mediterranean, I believe. Said she spent too much of her life rooted here. Lost too many years to this place. Now she’s making up for it."
He hums softly. “Oh.” Then he lets out a soft chuckle, looking away for a second with a genuine smile that catches me off guard. It’s the first time I’ve seen him smile like that, without a weapon hidden behind it.
"You grew up in Texas, right?" I ask, changing the subject before I get too sentimental. He looks back at me, his expression flat. He isn't even surprised I know his history anymore, he’s accepted that I’ve dissected his life.
"Yeah."
"Did you like it there?"
He starts running his hands up and down his arms, his damp shirt clearly offering zero protection against the wind that’s picking up. I keep my gaze pinned to the movement, watching the way his muscles tense under the cold.
"Sure," he says. "It was okay."
I let out a short, unimpressed breath. “So convincing.”
He shoots me a look, his eyes flashing. "It was a small town." he says, shrugging slightly. “There wasn’t much to do. You either trespassed at the local rock quarry, drove around in circles pretending it was exciting, or ended up at someone’s backyard bonfire with the same ten people. I was young, I was bored, and I felt trapped. I wanted out from the second I realized there was a world beyond the county line."
He then reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. I feel a sharp, sudden flash of disappointment, maybe even something closer to sadness. Like something just slipped out of my grasp, and it’s so disproportionate to the action that it almost irritates me. I watch him check the time, then his expression changes. "Is there no signal out here?"
I give a small, slow shake of my head. "Not out here. If you're looking to reach someone, you’ll have to do it from the main house." I gesture vaguely toward the east, where the silhouette of the estate sits. "That way."
He follows my hand, his eyes tight with worry, then exhales sharply under his breath. “Shit,” he mutters. “Josie’s gonna worry.... I take my car everywhere,” he goes on, more to himself now. “She’ll notice it’s still there. And knowing her, she might even file a missing persons report."
"You love her," I say. It’s not a question.
He looks up, blinking as if the observation is the most obvious thing in the world. He shrugs, his shoulders tense. "Of course I do. She’s my person."
I wonder, just for a fleeting, dangerous second, what that feels like. Not at the concept of love, I understand that well enough in theory. But that level of care, that kind of reflexive concern directed at you by a man like him. I shake the thought off before it can take root.
Instead, I extend my hand. "Give me your phone. I might be able to help with that."
His expression shifts instantly. He looks hopeful, stepping toward me with his guard down. "Really? You have a booster or something?"
He hands it over. As the screen wakes, I catch the wallpaper... a much younger Kaden and Josie, probably teenagers, dressed in ridiculous Halloween costumes. She’s on his back, her arms around his neck, and they’re both laughing with a wild, unburdened joy. I click the screen off and slide the phone into my own pocket. An unfamiliar feeling courses through me, something that feels uncomfortably like envy.
"What're you doing?" He asks, his voice rising.
"Confiscating the distraction."
Before he can protest, I reach out and hook my arm around his waist, pulling him flush against me. I expect the shove. I expect resistance. Pushback. The usual sharp elbow or the verbal lashing...something.
But he doesn’t fight it. Not this time. Instead, his hands come up, settling at the sides of my neck.
"Give it back," he says, but there’s no real edge to it. If anything, there’s something lighter underneath, something dangerously close to playful.
I shake my head, my arms snaking fully around his waist, locking him into me. "I don't want to."
His lips twitch like he’s trying not to smile.
“You’re stacking up quite the criminal record.”
I lift a brow, feigning mild offense as my hands move over his back, trying to chase away the cold clinging to him.“I’d love to hear these charges.”
He huffs a quiet breath. “Let’s see... kidnapping, property damage, emotional manipulation—”
“Emotional manipulation?” I cut in, amused.
He narrows his eyes slightly, but there’s no real heat behind it anymore. “I could maybe be persuaded to overlook most of them,” he says, voice dipping just a little.
“Generous of you.”
“But the car? That one’s gonna be hard to forgive.”