Cade:
The door closed softly. Too soft for the way it gutted me.
Her footsteps faded down the drive, swallowed by the morning. Then the car started, engine coughing into life before settling into a low hum. I stood there in the kitchen, spine pressed against the counter, every muscle tight like I’d been bracing for an impact that never came.
The silence after she left was worse.
I stared at her untouched mug—lip print smudged faintly against porcelain. My hand twitched, wanting to reach for it, to curl my fingers where hers had been. Pathetic. I shoved the thought down, but it didn’t go anywhere. It just pressed deeper, like everything else I’d been trying to bury.
She’d worn scrubs. She hadn’t worn them since Paris. I knew what it meant. She was building distance. A wall between us d
