Page 17

Roxie had already claimed her spot on the table, demanding attention. Cade scratched behind her ears without looking away from the screen, movements automatic. She purred like a damn engine.

I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, heart doing weird things in my chest. “So I didn't imagine you.”

He glanced up, one eyebrow raised in that way that used to drive me crazy. Still did, apparently. “Nope.” Took a sip of coffee, eyes back on the screen. “Made breakfast. Found bacon and eggs.”

Like it was just another morning. Like he hadn't crawled back from literal Hell. Like we hadn't spent half the night tiptoeing around each other, both of us trying to figure out what the fuck we were supposed to do now.

“You look like shit,” I said, pushing off the doorframe and heading for the coffee.

“Thanks. You're not exactly a beauty queen yourself.”

I snorted, grabbing a mug. “Nothing new there.”

The silence stretched, filled with Cade's typing and Roxie's rumbling purr. Morning light caught the dust floating between us, making everything feel suspended, uncertain.

I studied him over my coffee mug. In the harsh light of day, I could see things I'd missed last night. The way his cheekbones stood out sharper. The scar peeking out from under his collar. How his wrists looked too thin, like he'd been stretched on a rack.

But it was more than that. The way he moved, so careful, so precise. Like he was operating borrowed equipment and wasn't sure how it worked yet.

“There's bacon,” he said without looking up. “Should still be warm.”

I found the plate by the stove—perfectly cooked bacon, eggs that had gone a little cold. Evidence that someone had been playing house while I slept.

“Christ,” I muttered, grabbing a piece of bacon. “You've been back one day and you're already cooking breakfast like Ward Fucking Cleaver.”

His hands went still on the keyboard. “Would you rather I have a breakdown?”

The edge in his voice was new. Sharp, brittle. Before, Cade was steady as a rock, never lost his cool. This felt like glass about to shatter.

“No,” I said, loading up a plate. “Just trying to figure out how you're even upright right now.”

I sat down across from him harder than necessary, the plate clattering against the table. Roxie jumped down with an offended yowl.

“How do you feel?” I asked, cutting through whatever bullshit deflection he was about to throw at me. “Really. No games.”

Cade stopped typing. His jaw worked for a second, like he was chewing on words he didn't want to say. “I feel like I lost six months of my life,” he said finally. “And I don't have time to sit around crying about it.”

I rubbed my face, stubble scratching against my palm. “Jesus, Cade. You just got back. You were in Hell, or worse. And you want to jump straight back into hunting?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” He looked at me then, really looked, and for a second I saw something raw underneath all that control. “Meditate? Keep a fucking journal? 'Hi, doc, I spent eternity in hell and now I am back, got any advice?'”

The sarcasm stung, but at least it was emotion. Better than the blank wall he'd been giving me.

“I'd like you to take five minutes to breathe,” I shot back. “To talk to me about what happened.”

“I told you, I don't remember.”

“Bullshit.” I leaned forward. “You remember enough that you're running from it.”

His knuckles went white where he gripped the laptop, then deliberately relaxed. “The department thinks I'm dead. It's better that way. I was planning to quit anyway.”

I stared at him. “So that's it? You're just going to pretend nothing happened? Hunt monsters, save people, keep the family business running?”

“What else is there, Sean?” And there it was again, that flash of something desperate under all the control. “This is what I know. What we know.”

The “we” hit me like a punch to the gut. Whatever was wrong with him, whatever was missing, we were still connected. Still a team.

“Yeah,” I said, the fight draining out of me. “I guess it is.”