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POV: Maya
For three days, that scrap of paper with Cade's number had sat on my counter like a live grenade. I had cleaned around it, stared at it while my coffee went cold, and once, I had even picked it up, only to drop it as if the ink might burn my skin.
I hadn't called. I couldn't. Calling Cade felt like admitting he was right, and if he was right, then the last six years of my life weren't a slow-burn romance-they were a tragedy.
Now, standing on the porch of the Blackwood estate for our Sunday tradition, my stomach was a knot of barbed wire. I'd been coming here every week for six years. I knew the smell of Mrs. Blackwood's pot roast and the exact creak of the third step. I was part of the furniture.
The door swung open, and Ethan was there, glowing. He looked rested, his "emotional death" from three nights ago seemingly replaced by the effortless charm he wore like a second skin.
"Maya! You're late," he teased, pulling me into a one-armed hug and kissing my temple. It was the kind of affection you gave a favorite cousin. "Come in, everyone's already in the parlor."
He didn't let go of my shoulder as we walked in. "Mom, Dad, look who made it! My best friend Maya, honestly, she's basically family at this point."
The word family hit me like a physical blow. It was a cage. If I was family, I was safe. If I was family, I was non-threatening. If I was family, he never had to worry about losing me, which meant he never had to bother winning me.
"Good to see you, dear," Mrs. Blackwood chirped.
I went to respond, but the words died in my throat. Standing by the fireplace, a glass of dark amber liquid in his hand, was Cade.
He wasn't wearing tactical gear today. He was in a dark charcoal sweater that made his gray eyes look like sharpened flint. He didn't say a word. He just looked at me. It was that same look from my apartment, predatory, knowing, and entirely too heavy for a room filled with polite conversation. He looked at me like he knew exactly what I'd been doing for the last seventy-two hours. He looked at me like he was just waiting for me to stop pretending.
"You remember my brother, right?" Ethan asked, oblivious to the vacuum of oxygen Cade's presence created.
"We've met," I managed, my voice thin.
"Briefly," Cade added, his voice a low vibration that seemed to travel across the floorboards and up my spine.
Dinner was an exercise in psychological warfare. Ethan sat to my left, chatting animatedly about a new merger. Cade sat directly across from me.
"So, Cade," Mrs. Blackwood said, leaning forward. "Ethan tells us you're actually staying this time? No more 'classified' assignments?"
Cade took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving mine. "No more running, Mom. I'm starting a security consulting firm. Staying local. Putting down roots." He paused, his gaze intensifying. "It's time I focused on things that are actually worth keeping."
"About time you settled down," Ethan let out a shallow laugh, gesturing with his fork. "Found a girl yet? Or are you still looking for a fellow mercenary?"
Cade's lips tilted into a microscopic, dangerous smile. "Working on it."
I choked on my water. I coughed into my napkin, my face flushing a deep, humiliated red.
"Easy there, Maya," Ethan said, patting my back. He didn't even pause. "Well, whoever she is, Cade, make sure she's nothing like Claire. God, I forgot how much energy that woman sucked out of a room. Insane. Truly. She complained about my hours, complained about my friends..."
I sat there, frozen, listening to Ethan trash the woman he had been sobbing over three days ago. He spoke about her like she was a bad car he'd finally traded in. He didn't notice that I had been the one to listen to those complaints for months. He didn't notice that I was currently the "friend" he was neglecting while he spoke.
Then, I felt it.
Under the table, a heavy, warm pressure brushed against the side of my foot. Then it slid up, firm and intentional, along the curve of my calf.
I jolted, nearly knocking over my wine glass. I looked up, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.
Cade was leaning back, looking perfectly relaxed. He was watching me with a small, challenging smirk. Your move, his eyes said.
I jerked my leg away, but the heat stayed. It felt like a brand. I couldn't breathe. The polite clinking of silverware and Ethan's mindless droning felt like they were miles away. There was only the table between us and the electric, forbidden current Cade was forcing me to acknowledge.
After dinner, I fled to the kitchen under the guise of helping with the dishes. I needed air. I needed to not be in a room where Cade Blackwood was dissecting my soul.
I was scrubbing a pot when the air in the room shifted. I didn't need to turn around to know he was there. The sheer magnetic pull of him was enough.
"You didn't call," he said. He didn't whisper, but his voice was low enough that it didn't carry past the kitchen door.
"I have nothing to say to you," I snapped, scrubbing the pot so hard the suds flew.
"Liar." He was closer now. I could smell the woodsmoke and bourbon. "You have six years of things to say. Six years of 'why not me' and 'when is it my turn.' You're just scared."
"Of what?" I turned, the wet pot clutched to my chest like a shield.
Cade stepped into my personal space, his hand coming up to rest on the counter behind me, effectively pinning me in place. "Of what happens when you stop lying to yourself, Maya. Of what happens when you realize you don't want the boy who ignores you. You want the man who can't take his eyes off you."
My breath hitched. He was so close I could see the individual silver flecks in his irises. "Cade, stop. This is your brother's house. He's right in the next room."
"And he hasn't looked in here once," Cade countered. "He doesn't even know you're missing."
"Maya! Come here! I need your opinion on something!" Ethan's voice boomed from the living room, cheerful and demanding.
The spell broke. I flinched, my instinctual "caretaker" mode kicking in. I started to move, but Cade didn't budge. He looked down at me with a mixture of pity and cold amusement.
"He calls, you run," Cade murmured. "Pavlovian."
Fury, hot and sharp, flared in my chest. I couldn't hit him here, and I couldn't scream. So I did the only thing I could. I leaned in close to his ear, my voice a jagged whisper. "Go to hell, Cade."
I shoved past him, and as I reached the door, I didn't look back, but I felt his quiet, dark laughter follow me.
I walked into the living room, trying to smooth my hair and compose my face. Ethan was sitting on the sofa, scrolling through his phone.
"There you are," he said, waving me over. "Check this out. My buddy just set me up on this new elite dating app. What do you think of this girl, Sarah? She's a corporate lawyer, loves skiing. Should I ask her out? Or is the blonde, what was her name, Elena?... more my vibe?"
The world tilted.
Three days. It had been three days since he cried in my arms. Three days since I thought, this is it. And he was already asking me to vet his next conquest.
He looked at me, his blue eyes bright and expectant, waiting for his "best friend" to give him the green light to go find someone else to love.
Behind him, in the shadows of the hallway, I saw Cade leaning against the doorframe. He didn't say a word. He just watched me, his gray eyes steady, waiting for the moment I finally hit the floor.
POV: Maya
I didn't even make it out of the driveway before the world dissolved.
My hands were shaking so violently I couldn't get the key into the ignition. The cold leather of the steering wheel felt like ice against my palms. I leaned my forehead against it, the horn letting out a tiny, pathetic beep that mirrored the state of my soul.
Six years.
I had given Ethan Vale two thousand, one hundred, and ninety days of my life. I had been his shadow, his therapist, his cheerleader, and his safety net. And in less than seventy-two hours, less time than it takes for milk to spoil, he had replaced the "love of his life" with a corporate lawyer who liked to ski.
He hadn't even waited for the salt to dry on my cheeks from the night he cried in my arms.
A sob ripped out of my throat, jagged and raw, sounding like something breaking deep inside a machine. Then came the next one. And the next. I couldn't catch my breath. The air in the car felt like it was being sucked out through the vents. My chest tightened, a phantom hand squeezing my lungs until my vision began to tunnel.
Inhale. I can't. Exhale. There's nothing left.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound on the glass was sharp. I didn't look up. I couldn't. I was drowning in an inch of water in my own driver's seat.
The door suddenly swung open. The dome light flared, blindingly bright, and the scent of rain and tobacco flooded the small space.
"Maya. Look at me."
Cade. His voice was a low, heavy anchor.
I shook my head, my hair plastered to my damp face. I was a mess-snot, tears, and a six-year-old delusion finally shattering into a million pieces. I didn't want him to see this. I didn't want the "dangerous" brother to witness my final humiliation.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice dropping an octave.
He didn't wait. He reached in, his large, calloused hand cupping my chin and forcing my head up. He was crouching in the dirt of the parking lot, his gray eyes locking onto mine with terrifying intensity.
"Breathe with me," he said. He didn't sound sympathetic; he sounded like a commander on a battlefield. "In for four. Do it now."
He inhaled deeply, his chest expanding. I tried to follow, my breath hitching in a pathetic hiccup.
"Hold it. One, two, three, four. Now out. Slow. For four."
He counted me through it. Again and again. He didn't look away, and he didn't loosen his grip on my jaw. He was grounding me, tethering my frantic mind to the physical reality of his hand on my skin.
Gradually, the tunnel vision cleared. The oxygen returned, though it tasted bitter. My sobbing slowed to a jagged tremor.
"There," Cade murmured, his thumb brushing away a tear with a roughness that felt more honest than any of Ethan's hugs. "You're back."
I swallowed hard, my throat feeling like I'd swallowed glass. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't... you shouldn't be here."
"He showed you another girl," Cade said. It wasn't a question.
I nodded, the shame fresh and hot.
"And you smiled," he continued, his eyes darkening. "You looked at those photos, and you told him she was perfect for him."
I nodded again, a fresh sob threatening to break through.
"Fuck that," Cade growled. He stood up, the sheer height of him blocking out the porch lights of the main house. "Get out of the car."
"What? No, I'm fine. I'm going home..."
"You're not driving like this. Your hands are still shaking, and you're two seconds away from a relapse." He reached in, unbuckling my seatbelt with a decisive click. He didn't ask. He simply wrapped a hand around my arm and pulled me out.
He was gentle, but there was an immovable strength in him that made protest feel futile. He led me away from my car and toward the blacked-out beast of a truck parked in the shadows. He opened the passenger door and hoisted me into the high seat.
"I'm taking you somewhere," he said, slamming the door before I could argue.
He climbed into the driver's side, the engine roaring to life with a predatory growl. He pulled out of the driveway, the Blackwood estate disappearing in the rearview mirror like a fading bad dream.
"Where are we going?" I asked, my voice small and exhausted.
"Anywhere but here," Cade said. He glanced at me, his profile sharp against the passing streetlights. "And when we get there, Maya, you're going to scream."
"I don't... I don't scream," I whispered.
"Yes, you do. You've been screaming internally for six years. It's why you can't breathe. It's why you're breaking." He reached over, his hand briefly covering mine on the center console. His touch was steady, warm, and utterly certain. "Tonight, you let it out. All the rage, all the pain, all the 'best friend' bullshit. You leave it on the dirt."
I looked out the window. For the first time in my life, I wasn't worried about what Ethan would think. I wasn't worried about being "family" or being "safe."
With Cade, I wasn't safe-not in the way I used to be. I was on a fault line. But as the truck sped toward the dark outline of the mountains, I realized something terrifying.
Cade Blackwood was the only person in the world who made me feel safe enough to finally break.
POV: Maya
The city of Seattle looked like a handful of shattered diamonds tossed onto black velvet from this high up.
Cade had driven in a silence so heavy it felt like a third passenger in the truck. He navigated the winding mountain roads with a terrifying, effortless precision, his large hands steady on the wheel while I sat in the passenger seat, vibrating with the aftershocks of a life-altering realization.
We pulled into a gravel turnout overlooking the Puget Sound. The engine cut out, and for a moment, the only sound was the ticking of the cooling metal and the wind howling through the pines.
Cade climbed out and walked around to my side, wrenching the door open. The night air was freezing, biting through my thin dress, but it felt clean.
"Out," he commanded.
I stepped out, my legs feeling like they were made of water. He led me to the very edge of the wooden guardrail. Below us, the world dropped away into a darkness so deep it felt bottomless.
"Scream," he said.
I looked at him, my brow furrowing. "What?"
"No one's around for miles, Maya. No one to judge you. No one to tell you to be 'nice' or 'composed' or 'safe.' Let it out. All of it."
"I can't just... stand here and scream at the sky, Cade. It's ridiculous."
"Is it?" He stepped closer, his shadow swallowing mine. "Is it more ridiculous than staying silent while a man treats your heart like a footrest? Is it more ridiculous than pretending you're okay when you're dying inside?"
"I don't know how," I whispered.
"Then watch me. I'll go first."
Cade stepped right to the edge, his boots crunching on the loose gravel. He took a breath, a massive, lung-expanding draw of air and then he let it go.
It wasn't a shout. It was a raw, primal roar that seemed to come from the very soles of his feet. It was a sound of war, of grief, of years spent in places the sun didn't reach. It vibrated in the air, echoing off the rock faces until it felt like the mountain itself was screaming back at him.
He finished, his chest heaving, and turned to look at me. His eyes were wild, silver-bright in the moonlight. "Your turn."
I hesitated for a second, then I closed my eyes. I thought of the seven years. I thought of the "high-five" emoji. I thought of Ethan asking me to pick between a lawyer and a blonde while my heart was bleeding out on his designer rug.
I opened my mouth and I screamed.
At first, it was thin. But then the dam broke. Six years of "I'm fine" and "It's okay" and "Whatever you need, Ethan" came pouring out in a jagged, throat-tearing wail. I screamed until my lungs burned. I screamed until I couldn't remember my own name. I screamed for the girl who had waited, and the girl who had been forgotten, and the girl who was finally, violently, waking up.
When I finally stopped, my legs gave way.
I didn't hit the ground. Cade was there, his arms wrapping around me like iron bands, catching me before I could collapse. He lowered us both to the dirt, pulled me into the space between his knees, and let me bury my face in the crook of his neck.
I cried then-not the quiet, polite tears of the dinner table, but the ugly, racking sobs of a person who had finally let go of a heavy weight. He didn't say a word. He didn't tell me to hush. He just held me, his hand steady on the back of my head, shielding me from the wind.
Eventually, the tears ran dry. I pulled back slightly, wiping my face with the heels of my hands.
"Better?" he asked, his voice low and raspy.
"A little," I admitted. My throat felt like I'd swallowed hot coals. "Maybe. I don't know. I feel... empty."
"Empty is good," Cade said. "Empty means you have room for something new. You spent six years making yourself smaller for someone who didn't even notice you were shrinking, Maya. That ends tonight."
"I don't know how to be anything else," I whispered, looking out at the city lights. "I've been 'Ethan's Maya' for so long, I don't know who 'just Maya' is."
"Then learn," Cade said, reaching out to brush a stray, damp hair from my cheek. "I'll teach you."
I looked up at him, the moonlight catching the scar on his cheek. "Why do you care, Cade? Why are you doing this? You hardly know me."
His hand lingered on my face, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. "Because when I look at you, Maya, I see someone worth fighting for. And it pisses me of, it genuinely, deeply pisses me off that you're the only one who doesn't see it."
My breath caught. The intensity in his gaze was enough to melt the last of the ice around my heart.
"And because..." He stopped, his jaw tightening as if he were fighting himself.
"Because what?" I pushed.
"Because I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since I found you in his apartment," he growled, the honesty of it raw and jagged. "Because I saw you standing there in that wreckage, and all I wanted to do was take you away from him. And I know that's fucked up. I know he's my brother and you're his 'best friend' and this is all a disaster-"
I didn't let him finish.
It was impulsive. It was desperate. It was the least "safe" thing I had ever done in my life. I lunged forward and pressed my lips to his, effectively shutting him up.
Cade froze for a heartbeat. I thought I'd made a mistake, that I'd finally crossed a line I couldn't uncross.
Then, he made a low sound in the back of his throat, a growl of pure, unadulterated hunger, and his hands were in my hair, pulling me closer. The kiss wasn't gentle. It wasn't a "best friend" kiss. It was a claiming. It was intense, dark, and tasted of coffee and the cold mountain air. It was a truth spoken without words, and it made my entire body hum with a life I hadn't felt in years.
We broke apart, both of us breathing hard, the air between us practically glowing with static.
"Oh god," I whispered, my forehead resting against his. "I just... I just kissed Ethan's brother."
"Don't apologize," he snapped, his grip on my waist tightening.
"That was insane," I said, a hysterical laugh bubbling up. "You're his brother. I'm a mess. This is..."
"The first real thing you've felt in years?" Cade finished for me.
I stopped. I looked into his storm-gray eyes and realized he was right. Everything with Ethan had been a fantasy, a performance of patience. This? This was terrifyingly, beautifully real.
Cade stood up, pulling me with him. He didn't let go of my hand. He looked down at me, his expression more serious than I'd ever seen it.
"I'm not Ethan, Maya. I don't do half-measures. I don't do 'friends-with-benefits' or backup plans. If this starts, I'm all in. I'm playing for keeps."
He stepped back, letting the wind swirl between us.
"Are you?" he asked.
I looked at him, terrified and exhilarated all at once. The "safe" world was gone. The bridge was burnt.
"I don't know," I whispered.
"Figure it out. Fast," Cade said, turning back toward the truck. "Because I'm already falling, Maya. And I don't plan on hitting the ground alone."