The sight of my home spotless, furniture in place, the thoughtfulness behind it had nearly knocked the breath from me just hours ago.
Now, walking back in after leaving Cade’s house, the same image only made it worse. Because the man who had done all this, the man who’d kissed me like it meant something, had gone and kissed another woman minutes later.
Like I was some placeholder in between.
The anger bubbled sharp and hot, and underneath it, shame. Shame because I had no claim on him. Cade Reeve wasn’t mine. Yet every part of me wanted to scream that he had no right.
I dropped my bag on the floor, ignored the buzzing of my phone lighting up with his name, and told myself over and over: You don’t care. You don’t care. You don’t care.
Except I did.
All night, I ignored every text that
