Page 23 of Rewrite Our Story

I want to cry at the brutal honesty of his words. My mom had prepared me for her passing. I knew she was going to leave, and still I’d felt an unbearable pain. I can’t imagine losing someone so suddenly—and being the one to discover something so tragic.

“The only time I really ever slept was when I’d escape here to see you,” I confess. Even as a child, something about Cade’s presence made me feel safe. When he was next to me, the bad thoughts couldn’t follow me into my dreams. I could get some rest. But only when I was with him.

“Take the pain away,” he pleads, his voice breaking. There’s no more anger in his face, it’s all pain.

My heart breaks right along with him.

I can’t see him like this. I’d rather have the angry Cade than the broken one. I can take him being angry, but I can’t handle him being this devastated.

“I don’t know how.” My voice shakes.

My breath hitches when he reaches across the mattress and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “By just being you, Goldie. By just being here.”

His knuckles brush my cheek softly. My eyes flutter closed. Why does one little brush of his knuckles against my skin blow every other touch by a man out of the water?

“I’m here.”

He cups my cheek, his fingers splaying across my neck. His thumb rests against my racing pulse. I wonder if he feels it. If he’s aware of the effect he has on me even all these years later.

“For how long?”

His question makes my stomach sink. It’s vulnerable. Something I know he hates being.

I search his face for anger. But it doesn’t seem like he wants the question to come off like he’s upset. I think he genuinely wants to know how long I’ll be here.

“For however long it takes.”

“However long what takes?”

I place my palm against his heart. It’s been years since I’ve felt his bare skin against mine. His muscles are hard against my touch. “However long it takes for this to heal.”

He shakes his head, his hand coming to rest on top of mine. He applies pressure, pressing my hand deeper against his chest, right on top of his racing heart. “Oh Goldie, you’d be here forever. It was broken way before this happened. I don’t think it’ll ever heal.”

I hate that for the briefest of moments, I wonder if being back here forever would really be so bad.

Before I can get out a response, he grabs my hips and pulls my body flush against him. I breathe him in, my face pressed to his heart. His warmth envelops me immediately. My ear presses to his chest. I can hear his heartbeat. It thumps in a fast-paced rhythm that has me nuzzling deeper against his skin.

His fingers slip into my hair. He begins to run them through the long strands, his fingertips tenderly massaging my scalp. It’s what he used to do when I’d find myself in his bed. I’d tell him he doesn’t have to do it, but his breathing has become lighter. He doesn’t suck in air like he’s about to choke anymore. If giving his hands something to do takes his mind off his pain, I’ll lie here all night and let him do it.

The tension in the air between us changes. It gets thick and charged. When his fingertips brush over my neck, I try to hide the shiver that runs through my body.

It’s a completely inappropriate time for my body to feel so electrified from his touch.

But I can’t help it.

I’ve dreamed of feeling his touch again for years. Now that his scent surrounds me, his body engulfs me, and his touch destroys me, I’m lost in him all over again.

His fingers untangle from my hair, taking my breath away as his fingertips flutter over the back of my neck.

I hold still as Cade’s fingers travel down my back. They drift over the small amount of exposed skin between the waistband of my pajama pants and my shirt.

He watches me intently, his eyes full of heat. They’re still sad, but the sadness seems different. It isn’t pure agonizing pain staring back at me. It’s something more captivating.

He lets his fingers drift underneath my shirt. I sigh, reveling in feeling his skin against mine.

He pushes the fabric up, exposing my midriff.

His eyes rip from my gaze as he looks at the skin he just bared to him, longing in his eyes. “Goldie,” he breathes, his voice restrained.

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