Chapter 121 Leave

Chapter 121 Leave
Chapter Twenty-two

Charlie

He said to stay with him always, but I guess he didn't really mean it. I sit on the side of the bed as I watch Cade withdraw from me, the warmth between us cooling as he puts physical—and emotional—distance between us.

"We shouldn't have done that," he says, his back to me as he swings his legs over the opposite side of the bed. His shoulders are tense, a rigid line of rejection in the soft morning light.

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. "Why did you tell me to stay with you then, if you didn't mean it?"

He grips his hair, turning to face me with frustration etched across his features. "It was the sex talking! I was in heat, high on pleasure! How would we do this? What about Jordan?"

I cut him off, my own anger rising to match his. "Jordan is a fully grown man. It's time you start asking yourself, 'What about me?'"

Cade flinches as if I've struck him, but he rallies quickly, his defenses slamming back into place. "This isn't just about Jordan, and you know it. You're my son's friend. You're... you're you, and I'm me. There's over a decade between us, a power dynamic—"

"Bullshit," I snap, standing and grabbing my jeans from the floor. "There was no power dynamic when you were begging me to fuck you against that wall. There was no age gap when you were cumming on my dick. Don't you dare stand there and pretend this was one-sided."

His face flushes with shame and anger. "That's not fair."

"Fair?" I laugh bitterly, pulling on my jeans. "What's not fair is waking up next to someone who just claimed every part of you, only to have them tell you it meant nothing. What's not fair is you asking me to stay, to give you everything, and then ripping it away the moment the pleasure fades."

"I didn't ask you to—" he starts, then stops, running a hand over his face. "This is complicated, Charlie."

"Only because you're making it that way," I retort, my voice rising. "You want me? Then have me. You don't? Then say that and let me go. But don't keep playing these games with my head, with my heart."

"I'm not playing games," he insists, his voice strained. "I'm trying to be responsible. I'm trying to think about the consequences—"

"To hell with consequences!" I shout, then immediately regret my outburst as I see him flinch again. I lower my voice. "Cade... we have something rare here. Something real. Can't you feel it? The bond—"

"The bond doesn't automatically make a relationship work," he interrupts, his tone softening slightly. "It just makes the want stronger. It doesn't solve the practical issues."

"The real problems are the ones you're creating," I counter, stepping closer. "The only thing standing between us is you. Your fear. Your inability to see that what we have is worth fighting for."

"I'm scared," he admits quietly, his vulnerability showing through for just a moment. "I'm scared of messing this up with Jordan. I'm scared of what people will think. I'm scared of getting hurt again."

I reach for him, my fingers brushing his arm. "I'm scared too. But I'm more scared of losing you before we even get a chance to see what this could be."

He pulls away, shaking his head. "I can't, Charlie. I just... I can't."

The finality in his voice sends a chill through me. "So that's it? After everything... you're just giving up?"

"I'm asking you to leave," he says, his voice barely above a whisper as he avoids my gaze.

The words hang between us, heavy and absolute. I stare at him, searching for any sign of hesitation, any hint that he might change his mind. But there's nothing—just the stubborn set of his jaw and the refusal to meet my eyes.

"Fine," I say, my voice cold. I finish dressing in silence, each movement feeling heavier than the last. When I'm fully clothed, I stand by the door, my hand on the knob. "You know, for someone who claims to be so worried about Jordan, you're doing a pretty good job of teaching him how to run away from something good."

I don't wait for his response; don't give him the satisfaction of seeing me break. I just walk out, closing the door softly behind me, leaving behind the man I thought wanted me—and taking with me the pieces of my heart he'd just shattered.

The door clicks shut behind me, the sound echoing in the sudden silence of the hallway. I stand there for a moment, my hand still resting on the cool wood, as if I could somehow absorb the last remnants of warmth from inside. But it's no use. The connection is severed.

I don't remember walking to my car. Don't remember starting the engine. One moment I'm standing in Cade's hallway, my heart in pieces on the floor, the next I'm driving, the morning sun blinding as it reflects off the wet pavement. The city passes by in a blur of color and sound, none of it registering.

My body aches with the memory of him. The phantom feel of his hands on my skin, the taste of his slick on my tongue, the way his inner walls clamped around me as we came together. Every part of me screams to turn back, to pound on that door until he listens, until he understands that what we have is worth fighting for.

But my mind... my mind is a cold, cruel bastard, replaying his words on a loop. "It was the sex talking." "We shouldn't have done that." "I'm asking you to leave."

No matter how great the sex was, it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to make him want me, not really. Not when the morning came and reality set in.

I find myself pulling into a parking lot overlooking the bay, the car rolling to a stop as if of its own accord. I kill the engine, sitting there in silence as I watch the waves crash against the shore. The ocean smells different today—less like freedom and possibility, more like the endless, churning ache in my chest.

Lottie's words echo in my mind, a warning I should have heeded. "Be careful with him."

Careful. As if I could have been careful with the one person who felt like coming home. As if I could have guarded my heart when the bond between us pulled so strongly it felt like gravity itself.

But the bitterness rises in my throat, sharp and acidic. "What about me?" I think, slamming my palm against the steering wheel. "What about being careful with me?"

Cade was so worried about Jordan, so worried about what people would think, so worried about his own damn fears. But where was the concern for me? For the alpha he'd claimed, body and soul? For the man whose rut he'd triggered, whose heart he'd captured, whose world he'd just turned upside down?

I get out of the car, needing to move, needing to feel something other than this gnawing emptiness. The wind bites at my face as I walk toward the water, my hands shoved deep into my pockets. The beach is nearly empty at this hour, just a few dog walkers and early morning joggers.

I kick at a piece of driftwood, sending it skittering across the sand. God, I'm an idiot. An absolute fool. I'd actually believed him when he said "Always." I'd let myself imagine a future, a life with him. I'd let myself hope.

And for what? To be told it was all just the "sex talking"? To be dismissed like some inconvenient mistake?

The anger is a welcome distraction from the pain. It burns hot and bright in my chest, fueling my steps as I pace along the shoreline. How dare he? How dare he make me feel like I was everything, only to throw it all away because he's scared?

But even as the anger surges, the bond hums beneath it—a constant, persistent pull toward him. My body doesn't understand rejection. It only understands that its mate is out there, and we're not together. It's a primal, physical ache that wars with my rational mind.

I sink down onto the sand, drawing my knees to my chest as I stare out at the endless expanse of water. The waves roll in and out, a rhythm as old as time, and for a moment, I wish I could just let them pull me under, wash away all this pain and confusion.

But I can't. Because even now, even after everything, a part of me still wants to go back. A part of me still believes that if I could just make him understand, if I could just break through those walls he's built around himself, we could have something incredible.

And that's the most painful thought of all. That even after being rejected, even after being told to leave, I still want him. Still need him.

"What about me?" I whisper to the uncaring ocean, the words torn from my throat. "Who's going to be careful with me?"