Page 105 of Crossed

I look over at her as we walk. “It should go without saying that while you’re watching him, you shouldn’t let him out of your sight.”

A rush of satisfaction pours through me when I put her in her place.Wow.Who knew standing up for yourself could feel so good? I’m not the no- power nobody I used to be. And it’s about time I learn to use it, especially if I’m going to be married to Parker.

I’m fuming by the time we make it to Cade’s office, visions of Quinten finally interacting with his peers, then being stripped of the opportunity and put with astrangerracing through my brain.

Is this the first time it’s happened? Has he been secretly meeting with Quinten this entire time?

We reach his office, and I give Lydia a look to let her know she needs to stay where she is before twisting the handle and throwing the door open with force, the doorknob slamming on the wall like a thunderclap.

But my ire doesn’t last, because what I walk in on shocks me into silence.

Cade and Quinten are sitting in the middle of the floor, and they’re…finger painting.

My eyebrows shoot to my hairline, and my gaze flicks from where Cade sits staring at me, his white short-sleeved shirt cling- ing to his muscular arms and dotted with rainbows of colored paint, over to Quinten, who has a giant smile on his face and his palms covered in green and blue.

I’veneverseen Quinten with that much mess on his hands before, not even in his therapy sessions, and a swell of elation cuts off my air, making my throat swell. My eyes lock on Cade’s.

Quinten smiles, holding up his little fingers and spreading them wide. “Finger paints!”

I break away from Cade’s intense gaze and focus on Quinten. “I see that.”

Taking a step closer, my anger melts away like snow in the sun, and I glance down at the massive white sheet that’s taped to the floor, large and small handprints covering 90 percent of the surface.

“That looks awesome.”

“Maybe next time, we can paint one just for you,” Cade’s voice cuts in.

My heart skips. “Yeah, maybe.” I crouch down next to Quinten. “Hey, can Miss Lydia take you to the bathroom and clean you up so we can go home?”

He nods slowly, looking between Cade and me. “Can we paint tomorrow?”

“Sure, mon petit,” Cade says. “As long as your sister’s okay with it.”

“He has therapy.”

Cade shrugs. “After then.”

Lydia knocks on the open door and pops her head in, glancing around before smiling at Quinten. “Let’s go get you washed up, buddy.”

“Tomorrow?” he asks again.

“We’ll see,” I reply, my stomach sinking at the thought of Quinten getting more attached than he clearly already is.

Lydia comes forward and grips his hand, and then they’re gone, the door clicking shut behind them.

Silence fills the air.

Cade stands up, looking hot as fuck in his white shirt and black slacks, splotches of paint decorating his arms. And just like when we first met at the grocery store, I’m filled with gratitude for the way he is with Quinten.

What- ifs fill my head.

What if he wasn’t a priest?

What if I could have him?

What if? What if? What if?

My eyes flicker from his face over his arms and then down farther, and when I raise them again, Cade’s irises look like molten fire.