Page 138 of Trapped With You

His brows furrowed at my tone, body straightening with alertness. “What is it?”

“I think you should also talk to the girl you were”—I gulped—“withthe night of the party. She might know something we don’t.”

“No,” he said vehemently, shaking his head. “That’s a dead end. I don’t even know her name.”

“Cade,” I said softly, catching his hands with mine. “Think about it. She was intoxicated and in your room, thinking you were someone else. Just like you. She’s a victim in this situation and maybe she holds another missing piece of the puzzle.”

He knew I was right too.

With a resigned sigh, he nodded. “Okay, I’ll try to get in touch with her.”

“We’ll figure this out together, okay?” I smiled and clutched the lapels of his leather jacket, drawing him closer to me. “We’re a team. Ride or die.”

“Ride.” He kissed my right eyelid. “Always ride, Ella.”

We stayed like that for a moment, fixed in place, the world around us blurring to nothingness when we were in each other’s orbits.

“Before I walk out of here.” Cade’s mouth trickled over my cheek, kissing the skin with the gentleness of a plume. “I need to know where I stand with you.”

Barely able to keep my eyes open due to exhaustion, Icouldn’t have this conversation right now. Much less in front of strangers crowding the jail cell with us. “Cade…”

“Tonight was a lot for both of us. Mentally, emotionally, and physically.” His hands rose to cup my cheeks. “But, baby, I’m hanging by a thread. I need to know that we can make this—us—work again. Otherwise, I don’t know what I’ll do with myself. I need you. In every definition of the word. And I hope you need me back the same way, Ella.”

There was no use lying when the writing was on the wall.

I needed him too. In every definition of the word.

“Cade, I want you to know that—”

“Cade Remington and Ella Cordova?”

We both turned to glare at the cop who interrupted us.

“You’re free to leave,” they said, unlocking the cell.

With no choice but to follow after the cop, I grabbed Cade’s hand and squeezed. “I promise, this isn’t the end. We’ll talk soon, all right?”

“All right.” He looked crestfallen.

I kissed his left cheek.

The corners of his lips hitched up in an adorable smile.

Then we came face-to-face with our father figures, looking overtly disappointed.

Cade and I were suddenly interested in the grey-painted walls.

When the cop left and it was just us four,papá, despite buzzing with anger, asked, “Are you both okay?”

We nodded like good sports.

Vance tutted, shaking his head with a mocking smile. “You two just can’t stay out of trouble, huh?”

Francisco Cordova rarely played the doting father role. He didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, nor was he the super affectionatetype. But he loved his children dearly and was present throughout every one of my milestones: first cheer performance, school graduations, teaching me how to drive, and so much more. If it weren’t for those moments, I’d think mypapáwas nothing more than a cold businessman without a heart.

And for this moment, when he came to bail me out at 5:00 a.m. with worry and fear etched in the lines of his face. His dress shirt was haphazardly buttoned, his slacks weren’t pressed, and I was certain he wore shoes without socks. A telltale sign that he rushed over to the police station the second I hung up.Papáwas never unkempt.

Birds chirped in the early autumn morning as we walked to his Benz. He hadn’t said another sentence after asking us if we were okay, and I was gearing myself for a lecture. I was self-aware enough to say I deserved it.