Tiffany Snow - Out of Turn

“I’m not ‘ditching’ you,” he retorted. “I’m saving your life. You were nearly killed because of me three months ago when Garrett broke in, and now this today.…”

“That doesn’t matter—”

“It’s done.” Kade interrupted me. His voice echoed finality and he turned away, dismissing me as he walked toward the bar.

“So you’re just going to give up? Just like that?” Anger masked my desperation. I didn’t want to think about losing someone else, forever. I’d been so alone the past few months. Kade had helped me feel alive again.

“Sometimes you gotta know when to fold ’em,” Kade quipped, flashing me a bitter smile as he poured more bourbon into his glass and took a healthy swallow. “Or at least that’s what Kenny always said.”

“Bullshit.”

“You said it yourself,” he said, lifting his glass as though in a toast. “Blane and I won’t ever reconcile if you’re still in the picture. That leaves only one option.”

I sucked in my breath at that, his words cutting deep. It was one thing to blame myself for coming between them, but another thing entirely to hear Kade speak of tossing me aside so matter-of-factly. Guilt stirred within me even as my eyes filled with tears.

“Go to hell,” I said, seething and hurrying past him to my bedroom. It was all I could do to not run. I slammed the door and flopped onto the bed.

My hands were shaking and I felt inches from falling apart. Everything I’d felt when Blane had dumped me came flooding back. The anger. The heartbreak. The loneliness. Even when Kade had been absent the past few months, I hadn’t really thought it would be forever. I’d kept thinking that he’d turn up, sooner or later—that he hadn’t abandoned me entirely.

Now it seemed he was prepared to do just that.

I had to get a grip. This wasn’t me, this needy, weepy person. I’d withstood my father’s death, my mother’s illness and subsequent death, the breakup with my fiancé, being kidnapped—twice—and nearly dying too many times. Surely I could handle this.

But as logically as I reasoned out all that had happened to me, it didn’t stop the deadening ache inside my chest. I wrapped my arms around my knees and rocked.

I don’t know how long I stayed that way, my thoughts in a turmoil, wondering how I was going to get through the next few days, weeks, months. Alone. Again.

Hours passed and, eventually, I must have fallen asleep. Something woke me, though, and I jerked awake, cringing at the crick in my neck. Then I heard a thump and a crash.

Jumping to my feet, I hurried out of my room, afraid but still too sleep befuddled to reason. I stepped into the living room and halted, not fully comprehending the sight that met my eyes.

Kade was lying sprawled on his back on the floor, a half-empty bottle of bourbon at his side. A completely empty one lay a few feet away.

Shocked, I hurried to him and dropped to my knees at his side.

“Kade! Are you all right?” I grabbed his shoulder and he abruptly sat up, his eyes squinting as though the light hurt them even though it wasn’t that bright.

“Princesss,” he slurred. “What’re you doin’ here? Thought you were ’sleep.”

Oh God. He was drunk. I’d never seen him drunk, though I’d definitely seen him drink many times. Kade didn’t strike me as the type to ever let down his guard enough to get drunk. I was surprised he’d done so tonight.

“Have you been out here drinking all this time?” I asked in dismay.

Kade’s brow scrunched, as if he were trying to remember. “Um, yeah. Think so.”

My gut twisted and I reached to take his arm. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s get you into bed.”

Kade flashed a wicked smirk. “Tha’s my line,” he said. “But okay.”

Getting him off the floor was a feat. He kept getting distracted. It was like trying to keep the attention of a two-year-old.

“Mmm, you smell good,” he said, burying his nose in my hair when I leaned over to try to haul him upward.

“Thanks,” I said, my good humor somewhat lacking. He was heavy. I tried pulling again, but he just sat there.

“Is that my shirt?” he asked. “My clothes look good on you, but I bet they’d look better off you.” He began pulling at my buttons. I slapped his hands away.

“Stop that,” I scolded. “Help me out here. Stand up.”

After some stops and starts, Kade was finally on his feet, though I had a few scary moments when I feared he might topple over and take me down with him.

“C’mon,” I said, heading to his bedroom. He leaned heavily on me.

“You’re too little to carry me,” he protested, trying to stand on his own. He immediately began listing to one side and I had to grab the front of his shirt to right him.

“Whoa there, buddy.” I slid my arm back around his waist and drew his arm over my shoulders. “We’re almost there, okay?”

“I forgot my bottle,” he said, turning back halfheartedly. I had to turn with him or risk falling down.

“You don’t need it. It’s okay,” I said, pulling him forward and shuffling him a few more steps closer to the bedroom.

“Course I need it,” he scoffed. “She coulda died, you know. And it’d been my fault.” Even with his slurring, I could understand he was talking about me. “I’m bad,” he continued. “Bad for everybody.”

“You’re not bad,” I insisted. “Just drunk.” A few more steps and we’d be at the doorway to his bedroom, thank goodness. My shoulders were starting to ache.

“No, I’m bad,” he said, narrowly avoiding taking out a table in the hallway. “She should be with Blane. He’s the good one.”

I wasn’t sure I agreed with that.

“Told him, told him—not sleeping with her. Stupid fuck. Ruined it. Told me to get the fuck out. Done with me.”

That made my ears perk up and distracted me from trying not to let Kade’s flailing arm knock over what I was sure was an expensive flower-filled vase.

“What do you mean ‘done with’ you?” I asked.

“All these years,” Kade mused, ignoring me. “Kept waiting for it, knew he’d be through eventu’ly. Still took me by surprise, though.” His tone had changed from cheerful drunk to morose.

Blane had thrown Kade out? Told him he was done with him? Because of his stupid, idiotic belief in his uncle’s lies? I gritted my teeth. As though this whole situation weren’t complicated enough, Blane had to take away the one thing he’d tried so hard to give Kade all these years—his unconditional acceptance. Asshole.

I managed to get to the bed and was relieved to plop Kade down on it. He looked at me as though just realizing again who I was.

“Hey, you’re here!” he said in wonderment, reaching out to clumsily pat my uninjured cheek until he saw the bruises on the other. “I want to kill him.”

His tone was menacing, much different than how he’d been speaking previously.

“What?” I asked warily.

“The fucker who did this to you,” he said, his eyes widening and blinking as he tried to focus. “I want to kill him.”

“I don’t want you to do that,” I said, crouching down to remove his shoes. “You beat him up—that’s enough.”

“You bet your ass I did,” Kade said. I had to hide a smile. He sounded like a kid who’d gotten a good grade on a report card and was proud of it. “Broke his fucking hand.”

Okay, that was news.

I pushed the thought aside—there was nothing I could do about it anyway, and I didn’t know if I would have if given the choice. It struck me then that I was more cavalier, and perhaps more bloodthirsty, than I used to be. Maybe I’d seen too many bad people doing too many bad things to turn the other cheek anymore. Punishment and justice seemed in short supply these days, and I found myself resolutely glad that Kade had meted out both, frontier style.

I stood up with a sigh, dragging Kade’s T-shirt over his head. His arms fell back to his sides, like he didn’t have the strength to lift them. He stared at me as I folded the shirt and set it aside.

“What?” I asked. “Did you need something?”

Kade grabbed my hand and tugged me between his spread knees, resting his head against my stomach. I took the opportunity to bury my fingers in his hair, always soft to the touch. His hands moved to settle on my hips.

“You okay?” I asked softly. “Tired, I bet.” I remembered his raw knuckles and untangled myself to go get a washcloth. I came back and reached for his hand, carefully dabbing away the dried blood.

“This is a dream, right?” Kade asked, staring at me again, completely oblivious to what I was doing.

I smiled a little. “I hope not,” I joked. “Surely you can do better.”

“Don’t call me Shirley,” he said automatically. I laughed at the joke, overused though it was.

He closed his eyes and tipped his head back slightly. “I love to hear you laugh,” he murmured. “Makes me think of springtime, and carnivals, and being happy.”

My smile faded. The things Kade said sometimes—they made my heart hurt.

“Aren’t you happy?” I asked.

His eyes opened, their piercing blue captivating me.

“I am when I’m with you.”

My heart seemed to skip a beat and the small smile I gave him was watery. “Me, too,” I whispered, my throat clogged with emotion.

“No, no, no, don’t cry,” he said, his dismay evident. He got to his feet before I could react, though he seemed slightly steadier now. Cupping my face in his hands, he pressed light kisses along my cheeks and around my eyes. “Don’t cry,” he softly repeated, the words brushing across my skin.

My arms were trapped between our bodies and I tentatively rested my hands on his bare chest. Kade pulled back slightly to look at me, but I couldn’t meet his eyes. My gaze dropped to his chest.