Page 30 of Off-Limits Bad Boy
“Kade...” she says, the words dying on her lips like she’s not sure where to go from here.
Her voice is as soft as I remember, but she’s not captivating me like she did in the past.
She looks at me with those piercing blue eyes, eyes that once knew all my secrets. “Maybe we can start over?” She hesitates, and I’d swear she’s holding her breath, waiting for my response.
I stare at her hand on mine, her pale skin against my darker tone as memories and what-ifs well up between us. But there's a resistance inside me.
I pull my hand away, and I sense her pain even though all she does is inhale a sharp breath.
“Stella, you'll always be important to me, but...” My voice trails off as I take another drink, unsure of how to tell her that whatever was between us is gone now.
I look up, meeting Stella's expectant gaze, and I'm lost for words.
There's a long pause, a moment where shadows of our past fade in the light of our current lives.
With a small nod, her shoulders drop just slightly in silent acceptance of what I haven’t said.
No more words are needed.
The door clicks shut behind Stella, leaving a silence that feels like the final note to an old song. My hand pulls my cell phone out of my pocket, then I turn on the screen before I can talk myself out of it.
Her number is familiar, etched into my muscle memory. It rings once, twice, and then her voice flows into my world, leaving me closing my eyes like a junkie getting a fix.
“What, Kade?” She sounds upset, and I don’t blame her.
“Emma, I just wanted to check in. Are you okay?” I need to know that this aching feeling inside me isn’t an indication that something’s terribly wrong.
There's a pause, long enough for me to worry. Long enough that I begin to regret calling. But then she speaks, “Yes, Kade. I’m fine.” Her brief words are enough to ease the tightness of fear in my chest.
“Good.” I exhale, leaning back against the wall. “Remember the orchids?” I ask, thinking about how she’d turned sideways and pretended one was a mustache and mimicked twirling one side where the bloom was.
To my surprise, she laughs, a sound that seems to reach through the phone and pluck at something inside me. “You have to admit I’d look amazing with a mustache.”
“Oh, you did,” I say, my smile lingering.
I want to tell her about Stella, about the door that closed tonight, but the words die on my tongue. What's the point? There's nothing there. Emma doesn't need the weight of dead-end what-ifs.
So we talk, skirting around the edges of the things that have pushed a wedge between us. We don't mention the security system or the argument. Instead, we talk about everything and nothing, filling the spaces between us with memories and laughter.
“Kade?” she says softly, breaking our string of shared memories, her voice softer now. “Thanks for calling.”
“It’s my pleasure,” I say, feeling something realign.
“I’m going to get some sleep. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Em,” I say into the phone. She lets out a soft laugh as she hangs up, and the sound sends warmth through my gut as the knots in my shoulders unwind and begin to relax.
The sheets twist around my legs, a tangled prison of cotton that clings to my sweaty skin. My breaths are heavy as I flip the pillow for the cooler side yet again.
Sleep has been nothing but a dream. A dream I’m not having.
The image of Emma, her head tilting ever so slightly into my palm, is seared onto the insides of my eyelids. Every time I close them, I feel her all over again—her warmth, her softness, the sweet trust and desire in her eyes.
“Dammit,” I say into the darkness, raking a hand through my hair.
It's no use; my body's wound tight, every muscle coiled with an ache that only Emma can soothe. I'm hard, painfully so, and it's all because of her. Somehow she’s got me tied up in knots without even trying.
I throw the covers back, a restless sigh escaping me as I sit on the edge of my bed. Moonlight filters through the blinds, casting slatted shadows across the room, across the very space I wish Emma was right now.