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thirty-nine

Davey stood at the rooftop door, the handle cold beneath his fingers. Cade was already out there, back turned, shoulders rigid, the bitterly cold wind snapping at his shirt like it was trying to rip him away.

The sunrise reflected off the glass towers of the city like fire.

Somehow, it was morning.

The last time they’d stood on a rooftop together watching the sunrise, it had been after a late night of drunken escapades, not… whatever the hell this was now. Not standing on opposite sides of a fault line, waiting for it to crack wide open.

Jesus, he wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready.

He stepped forward, his boots scuffing against the concrete. Cade didn’t turn, but Davey knew he’d heard him. Cade always had a way of knowing when someone was there—one of the things that had made him so good at his job. One of the things Davey used to admire.

“I figured you’d come up here,” Davey said, keeping his voice low. Neutral. “We both like to brood on rooftops.”

Cade snorted but didn’t respond, his gaze still fixed on the skyline.

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. Davey forced himself to breathe through it as he searched for the right words. None came. He’d never been good at this— at talking when it mattered.

“Cade,” he started, his voice rough, “about what happened?—”

“Don’t.” Cade cut him off, finally turning to face him. His blue eyes burned with anger, but there was something else there, too. Something that looked like betrayal. Maybe sorrow. And a touch of hate. “Don’t do the whole ‘let’s talk it out’ thing. I know you don’t mean it.”

God save him from stubborn Wildes. They were all the same—proud, reckless, and incapable of giving an inch, even when it cost them everything.

He bit back a curse and tried to keep his voice level. “That’s not fair, Cade.”

Cade let out a sharp breath, his fists clenching at his sides. “Yeah? Well, neither is getting sold out by my own goddamn family.”

“I didn’t—” Davey caught himself on the edge of the explosion. That was what Cade wanted. He wanted anger and punches because that was easier than talking. “Look, I’m here, aren’t I? If I didn’t really want to work this out, would I be up here, freezing my ass off, when I just got my woman back?”

“Yeah, you would,” Cade snapped. “Guilt has always been your best motivator.”

Davey exhaled his frustration in a low, slow breath that clouded in the air. “Of course I feel guilty. I accused you of being the mole. I didn’t want to believe it, but the evidence?—”

“The evidence was bullshit, and you knew it. But you still looked at me like I was the enemy. And now you’re firing me?”

Still trying to ignite that explosion. Well, he wasn’t going to get it. “I was— and still am— only trying to protect the company. The family. You think I wanted to suspect you? To fire you? You think I’ve enjoyed any of this?”

“You didn’t hesitate.” His voice was louder now, rough and frayed at the edges, barely held back. “Not for a second. Either time. You just decided I was guilty. End of story.”

“We had evidence?—”

“Bullshit evidence.”

“Maybe, but what was I supposed to do? Ignore it?”

“You could’ve trusted me,” Cade said, his voice quieter now but no less cutting. “That’s what you were supposed to do.”

Davey exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “You punched me at Christmas when you found out the uncles were giving me the company.”

Cade let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “And now you’re taking WSW and throwing me out with the trash. Hell of a full-circle moment.” His voice was flat, edged with something cold and resigned.

The words hit harder than Davey expected, knocking the wind out of him for a beat. He looked away, his gaze drifting to the city below, to the faint glow of dawn bleeding into the skyline. “You’re right. I never should have accused you. I fucked up. I let my doubts get in the way, and I’m sorry. But, Jesus, Cade, do you think I wanted to fire you? I didn’t have a choice. They had a fucking gun to Rowan’s head, and it was the only way to make the deal work. I never wanted any of this. I never wanted us to—” He stopped, swallowing hard. “I miss the way things used to be with us.”

Cade scoffed, the sound hollow and sharp. His hands curled into fists, knuckles whitening. “You miss it? Really?” He let out a humorless exhale, his breath shaking with the force of everything he wasn’t saying. “You’re the one who came back from the military, the conquering hero with the busted-up leg, and took everything I’ve spent my life working for.”

“That’s not true,” Davey snapped, anger flaring despite the lead weight of guilt in his gut. “I didn’t want to take anything from you.”

Cade’s eyes burned into him, searing with something deeper than anger. Resentment. Betrayal. Hurt. “Yeah? Well, you did.” His voice cracked, but he steamrolled past it. “You think I don’t know how people look at me now? I’m the fuck-up. The problem. The guy the uncles didn’t trust. The guy barely keeping his shit together. But you?” He let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “You get handed the company, the loyalty, the legacy—like it was always supposed to be yours because you were born first. Like all the work I’ve done for this fucking company—this family—never even mattered. Like I never even mattered.”

Davey’s breath came sharper now, the fight in him clawing to be let loose. “You know I never wanted WSW. I never wanted to be in charge, but I did it because the uncles asked me to.”

Cade let out another bitter, humorless laugh. “You could’ve said no.”

“Yeah, I could’ve, but I didn’t. If I could go back…” Davey exhaled hard, dragging a hand through his hair. “No, I won’t lie to you. I would’ve still signed those papers. I love you, Cade. You’re family, but?—”

Cade’s head snapped toward him, his eyes flashing. “Family,” he repeated, voice rough. “Family didn’t stop Brody from betraying Sullivan. Didn’t stop Sullivan from pulling the trigger and putting a bullet in his brother.”

Davey’s stomach twisted. The fractures between Brody and Sullivan led them to that bridge over the river. And now, staring at Cade, Davey wondered if they could heal this fracture between them or if they were headed toward another bridge somewhere down the road.

“Cade—”

“No. I don’t need your pity, and I don’t need your apology. What I need—” He stopped short, exhaling through his nose. “What I needed was for you to let me do my job without treating me like a liability.”

Davey’s throat tightened. “You’ve never been a liability.”

“And yet you all but handled me to Praetorian on a silver platter.”

Silence.

Davey felt it like a fist to the ribs—sharp, unrelenting, and deserved. Because he had. He had. He’d sat in that goddamn penthouse and let Stirling name his price. He’d agreed to cut Cade loose to save Rowan, to end the threat, to walk away from that table with his people still breathing.

And it didn’t matter that he’d had no other choice. Cade was still the one who paid the price.

Guilt churned in his gut, but fuck if he could afford to drown in it now. “We’ll figure out a way to keep you on the payroll.”

Cade let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Keep me on the payroll? Jesus, Davey.”

His voice was quieter now, but that only made it worse. “You think this is about a paycheck? That you can write a number on a check and make this go away?” His lips curled into something almost like a smirk, but there was no amusement in it. Just something hollow. “You didn’t just fire me. You traded me.”

The word hit like a punch to the ribs, and he couldn’t control his sharp intake of breath. “Cade?—”

“You let Stirling put my name on the table like it was a fucking bargaining chip. Like I was something to be leveraged. And now you want to throw me a bone? Like that’ll fix it?” He pushed away from the railing and turned, his eyes burning. “You can’t fix this, Davey. You got what you wanted. The company, the trust, the team. You don’t need me. And honestly? I don’t think I need you anymore, either. So let me save you the trouble of firing me. I quit.”

The words cut deeper than Davey cared to admit. He opened his mouth to argue, to plead, but Cade didn’t give him the chance. He brushed past him, his shoulder bumping Davey’s, and walked toward the stairwell door.

“Cade—” Davey tried again, but the door slammed shut, the sound echoing in the empty space.

Davey stood frozen, staring at the spot where Cade had been. The weight in his chest felt unbearable, as if something had cracked wide open, and he wasn’t sure it could ever be put back together.

The door behind him creaked open, and for a moment, he thought—hoped—it might be Cade coming back. He turned, but it was Rowan who stepped out, her silhouette backlit by the warm glow of the stairwell.

She hesitated, her hand resting on the doorframe. “Hey.”

“Hey.” His voice was rougher than he wanted it to be, the weight of everything pressing down on him. He turned back to the skyline, his shoulders tight. He didn’t want her to see how much Cade’s departure had gutted him.

But then, this was Rowan—she probably already knew.

She crossed the rooftop, the click of her boots soft against the concrete. She stopped beside him, so close that her shoulder brushed his arm, warm even through the chill of the early morning air. For a moment, she didn’t say anything, just stood there, her gaze on the horizon where streaks of gold and violet bled into the city skyline.

“Hell of a night.”

His laugh was rough, nearly a scoff. “Understatement, Hellcat.”

She reached for his arm, fingers curling around his bicep as she leaned her head against his shoulder. “I saw him on the stairs. He looked pissed,” she murmured. “You okay?”

Davey let out a slow breath and turned toward her, dragging her into his arms, needing her warmth, her presence. He buried his face in her hair and repeated her words from the elevator: “Not really.”

She smiled, but worry filled her eyes as she studied his face. She brushed a wayward lock of hair from his forehead. “It’s Cade. He’ll cool off and come around.”

He wanted to believe that, but…

He shook his head. “You didn’t see the look in his eyes, Ro. I offered to keep him in the company, off the books, but he quit. And he meant it. He’s done.”

“Maybe for now,” she said. “But people don’t stay angry forever.”

“Have you met Cade?”

She huffed a small laugh, shaking her head. “I have, and I stand by what I said. Even he won’t stay angry forever. He cares too much. About you, this company, this insane family of yours.”

His throat tightened, his hands flexing against her lower back. “It’s not just anger. He doesn’t trust me anymore. And maybe he’s right not to.”

Rowan tilted her head up to meet his gaze, her touch achingly gentle as she cupped his face, her thumbs brushing over the tension at his jaw. He closed his eyes for half a second, just long enough to absorb the warmth of her hands, to hold onto the moment before reality crashed back down on him.

“Don’t do that,” she murmured. “Don’t carry all of this on yourself. What happened wasn’t all on you.”

He stared down at her. “Feels like it is.”

She stepped closer, until there was nothing between them but the press of her body and the steady thrum of his heartbeat against her own. Her fingers traced the edges of his jaw before sliding down his arms, linking their hands together. “You’re not perfect, Davey. You’re human. You make mistakes. But you’re also the most loyal, protective person I’ve ever met. Cade knows that. He just needs time.”

He searched her face, looking for cracks, for hesitation. But she believed in him. Even now. Even after everything. The weight of that belief— of her love— settled deep in his chest. Humbling. Terrifying.

His voice was quiet when he asked, “What did I do to deserve you?”

Rowan’s lips curved, soft and knowing. “Probably something fantastic in a past life. Maybe you saved the world.”

Despite himself, he chuckled, the sound low and rough, but God, he felt like she was the world. And maybe he hadn’t saved it before, but he’d spend the rest of his life trying to keep her safe, keep her standing, keep her here.

The tension in his chest loosened, just a little, as he took a slow, steadying breath.

Rowan’s gaze softened, her hazel eyes catching the sunrise, making them glow with something almost too bright, too good, too much. “For real, though, I’ll tell you exactly what you did,” she murmured, her fingers brushing over his like an anchor. “You’ve fought for me, Davey. Even when I made it impossible.”

His throat burned. “I’ll fight for you forever.”

Her eyebrows lifted, amusement flickering in her eyes. “Forever, huh?”

“Yeah.” His voice was rough, steady, an oath, a promise, a truth written into his damn bones. “I’m serious, Ro. If I have to spend the rest of my life proving how much you mean to me, I’ll do it. Every damn day.”

Her lips parted, something unreadable, raw, and beautiful passing through her expression—like maybe she felt the weight of his words settle somewhere deep.

Davey couldn’t resist the invitation of her parted lips. He bent his head, closing the space between them, his lips brushing over hers—soft at first, almost reverent. But when she sighed against him, he deepened it, one hand sliding to cup the back of her neck, the other gripping her waist like he needed to anchor himself to her, to this moment. To something real.

She melted into him, her fingers curling into his shirt, holding him like she wasn’t planning to let go. And, Jesus, he never wanted her to. He kissed her slow and steady, pouring everything into it—his relief, his devotion, the aching gratitude that she was here, safe, his.

Forever.

Then she made a small sound—a sweet, soft hum in the back of her throat—and it sent heat curling low in his gut. His mind flickered back to yesterday, to the feel of his back against his desk, her knees clamped around his hips as she rode him, the way she moaned as she sank onto him. He was suddenly very aware of how close they were, of how easy it would be to take her downstairs, lock the office door, and finish what they started.

But just as he started to pull her closer, Rowan let out a quiet laugh and pulled back, pressing a single finger against his lips. “Hold that thought.”

Davey blinked through the haze of lust, his brain taking a moment to catch up to the sudden change. “What?”

“There’s someone you need to meet first.” The spark of mischief returned to her eyes, but this time, it didn’t quite hide the softness beneath it. “My parents are downstairs, and my dad has questions. Lots of questions.”

Davey’s stomach dropped. “Your dad.”

“Yep.” She patted his chest, her grin widening. “And my mom. Don’t worry— they’re mostly harmless. Dad’s only brought, like, three knives.”

“Not funny,” he muttered.

“Come on.” Rowan squeezed his hand reassuringly as she tugged him toward the door. “You’ll survive. Probably.”