Page 68 of Caden & Theo

Then—

“Caden!” Theo’s voice is hoarse, breaking. “Caden, baby, answer me—please?—”

I try to move. Pain slices up my leg like fire.

“Don’t move,” Theo chokes out. He’s crouched next to me, somehow out of his seat. His face is smeared with red. Blood runs down his cheek and drips from his jaw. His hoodie—my hoodie—is torn at the shoulder, the fabric stained. His hands are shaking. “Shit, you’re bleeding. You’re bleeding so much.”

I try to say his name, but it gets stuck in my throat. It feels like trying to speak through gravel.

“The ambulance is coming,” he says quickly, almost too fast. “You’re going to be okay, I swear. You’ve just got to stay awake, all right?”

I nod—or I think I do.

My leg is screaming.

“I need—” I start, then cough. It tears through my chest, a deep, broken sound.

“Hey, hey, I got you.” Theo presses a hand to my cheek. It’s warm. It’s everything. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

His breath fogs in the cold. The wind’s rushing in through what’s left of the passenger side, and snow is whipping across the dashboard. I can’t stop shaking. I don’t know if it’s the cold or the pain or both.

I try to lift my hand to his, but my arm won’t cooperate.

“Theo.” My voice is so faint, I barely hear it.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here.” His hand is around mine now, gripping tight. “Just keep talking to me, okay? You’ve got this, Cade.”

Everything inside me is throbbing. My ribs, my shoulder, my neck. But the worst is my leg. I can’t feel my foot. Or maybe I can feel it too much. The pain is hot, sharp, alive. My stomach churns.

I blink again, and the world tilts sideways.

Darkness crowds the edges of my vision.

“Caden!” Theo’s voice spikes with panic. “No, no, no. Eyes on me. Please.”

I force them open. I try.

Theo’s face blurs.

“Can’t lose you,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “I swear to God—don’t you fucking dare.”

My head tips back against the seat. There’s blood dripping somewhere—mine or his, I don’t know.

And then I really notice it. The blood on his temple. The jagged gash on his forehead I missed the first time. It’s deep. He’s bleeding. A lot.

My stomach lurches. “You—you’re hurt,” I rasp.

Theo laughs, but it’s wet and raw. “You’re in a mangled car, probably concussed, and you’re worried about me?”

“Always,” I whisper.

His eyes shine, and for a second, I see the tears he’s trying so hard to blink away. He swallows hard. “It’s just a cut. I’m okay. It’s not deep. You’re the one I’m scared for.”

I don’t know how to say I’m scared too. Not of the pain, or the blood, or whatever’s happening inside my leg. I’m scared of this ending. Of not seeing him again. Of not making it out of this car.

Time slips again.

I fade.