Page 46 of Dirty Play

“You were already so stressed out about Kennedy. I didn’t want to give you someone else to worry about. I know how much Kennedy and her family need you, I don’t want to add anything else to your plate,” he says softly, his eyes drifting away like he can’t quite look at me. “I wanted to be strong for you. Besides, Rex already sort of knew. I convinced him to bring me in.”

“I worry about a lot of people, Cade. I worry about my patients, my friends, all of them. What makes you think I wouldn’t worry about you, too?”

“I know you would—I just don’t think I deserve it.”

My heart breaks even further, knowing that this big, sweet teddy bear of a man doesn’t think he’s deserving of someone to care about him. What has he gone through that makes him think he’s not worthy of love? Not worthy of people's time and energy?

I want to be mad at him. I want to yell and let him know how I feel, but when I look at him all I can see is a man baring his heart to me, even if it is a bit of an unconventional situation. What kind of friend would I be if I got mad or, even worse, walked away?

No, now I need to show him that I’m here and that nothing he does or has done will make him unworthy of me being right here with him.

“What changed?” I ask, urging him on, knowing we are seconds away from them kicking me out and bringing him up to surgery.

“I just wanted to fix something I broke, and helping Kennedy seems like a good place to start. But when I got here, and they started telling me what they were going to do… I freaked out. All I could think about was that I wanted to talk to you one more time, that I needed to see your face just once more… that it might help me believe it would be okay,” he tells me, the nervousness apparent in his voice.

“It will be, Cade, and lucky for you, now I’ll be waiting. I’ll go let Rex know I’m here and give him updates if he’d like,” I tell him. Standing up, I lean forward, surprising us both when I lay a soft, chaste kiss on his lips. “I’ll see you when you wake up, Grumps.”

With that, I watch as they wheel him out, leaving me with the next four hours to stress eat and try to stay focused on work.

Keeping my mouth shut about Cade being in the hospital was more difficult than I expected, especially with our group of friends. It’s nice to have Rex, but it’s not the same as if I had Sawyer or Cassie. The day of his surgery was easy enough because I was at work and ran around until it was done, then spent the rest of the day making sure both he and Kennedy were okay.

After that, it became more challenging because I had so many questions about his plan once he was released. I couldn’t just invite myself over to his house and force him to let me take care of him. I’ve heard the guys talk about Cade, how even they’ve barely been to his house, and that he’s for sure never brought a woman there.

Ever.

I wanted to call them, text Harris, and let him know what was going on, but Cade made me promise not to. He didn’t care that I was just trying to help, that his friends cared about him and deserved to know, especially when he needed some support. He still said no, that they had their own stuff going on, and it was bad enough he had to bug Rex with it.

At least I know he wasn’t originally planning on going into that surgery with no one knowing what was happening.

I spent more time with Cade after surgery, checking in with him on my breaks, sneaking in afterward to snuggle him, making sure he knew he wasn’t alone. I also made sure to pass along updates about Kennedy. Denise wanted to make sure he knew how she was doing—that she was still recovering but that her body seemed to be accepting the transplant so far.

But now it’s the day he’s getting discharged, and I need to know what his plan is. Walking into his room—on my day off, mind you—I smile when I see him sitting up. These last couple of days were a bit rough with the pain management—in other words, he thought he was too badass to need pain medication and would be able to tough it out.

Spoiler alert: he was not that badass and proceeded to press the nurse call button at least forty-seven times between two and three in the morning, getting both of us in trouble because I was still visiting him.

We ended up having to play catch up with his meds to try and get ahead of the pain, and it made for a rough go there for a while.

“Hey, you. Are you ready to bust out of here?” I ask, sitting on the side of his bed as he gives me a smile.

“Been ready,” he grumbles, his hand grabbing for my leg to give it a quick squeeze.

Things have seemed normal between us these last few days, and it’s been nice. Although I think part of it is that he’s been in a hospital bed recovering so there’s really been no time for anything past a few stolen kisses and lots of snuggles.

That’s not to say that he hasn’t been flirty and suggestive every once in a while, making me blush more than once, which Mariah has gotten a kick out of. Plus, he’s been a lot touchier these past few days, grabbing my hand or kissing my cheek, pretty much anything he could do to have a physical connection with me. I would even catch him tracing circles on my bare skin—the feeling of his fingertips running against the inside of my wrist had me shivering, his touch hot against my skin, yet I felt goosebumps everywhere.

But that’s how it’s been this last week since surgery. Now, we’re about to leave, and I have no idea what’s about to happen. Is he going to run for the hills, regretting everything between us? Or will he stand beside me like he said, promising to wade through this mess to see what we could be?

I haven't missed the way he’s been looking at me; the tiny glances he sneaks my way while I’m talking to his doctors. Or the way his eyes light up when I laugh at something he’s said. He’s confusing as hell, but I’m starting to wonder if maybe Sawyer was onto something. Although maybe it’s not Cade who’s like an ogre… perhaps it’s our relationship that has layers. We have this vision of what everything is between us, but it’s possible we can’t see the whole picture.

Maybe we just need to peel it back until we can see what’s been hiding inside.

“Well, I heard they were getting everything signed off for you to leave, so hopefully, it’ll be in the next hour,” I tell him, playing with the blanket on his bed. “Have you figured out what your plan is? I have the next three days off, but after that, what are you going to do?”

“I actually wanted to talk to you about that. It’s kind of a crazy idea, so I know there’s a chance it won’t work, but… uh… is there any chance you might be able to take a little time off?”

“What do you mean, take a little time off?” I ask, expectantly, not sure where this conversation is going and what this has to do with his recovery. “I already have the next three days off to make sure you’re settled.”

“How about two weeks?” he asks, his eyes scrunched like he can avoid my reaction.

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