Tethered in the Dark - A Love Story

Memories by the Lake

The car slowed, the engine’s growl softening as Kade turned off the main road. My pulse was still racing from the ride—half from the speed, half from the thrill of doing something so new. The wind had left my hair in a wild mess, whipping behind me like a banner, and I couldn’t stop grinning.

We rolled into a clearing I didn’t recognize. Sunlight spilled down through the trees, casting long shadows over patches of wildflowers. The air smelled fresh and green, like pine needles crushed underfoot and soil warmed by the sun.

Kade stopped the car with a smug little smile. “No judgments yet,” he said, holding up a finger. “You’ll ruin the surprise.”

I laughed, hugging the bouquet of roses closer. “It’s hard not to when you’ve driven me into the middle of nowhere. What if you’re secretly a kidnapper?”

He shot me a sideways glance, his grin tilting. “Then you’d be the most spoiled kidnapped victim alive.”

I rolled my eyes but climbed out of the car anyway, my shoes crunching against the dirt path. The breeze carried the scent of water, cool and crisp, and I followed it curiously.

Kade came around to my side and offered his hand like some prince from a fairy tale. I made a face but slipped my hand into his, feeling the steadiness there. He led me down a narrow path between the trees until suddenly the forest opened wide.

And there it was—an emerald lake glittering in the midday sun, its surface catching the light in silver flashes. The water looked almost too perfect, like glass polished smooth. Birds wheeled overhead, their cries sharp against the quiet, and a dragonfly skimmed across the surface, wings flashing blue.

My breath caught. “Kade… it’s beautiful.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just watched me with those green eyes, unreadable but steady, before shrugging as if it were nothing. “I figured you should have something special today. Thirteen years deserves more than just roses.”

I smiled, heart warm—not in the dizzy, storybook way of romance, but in the safe, anchored way that only Kade seemed to give me.

Still, even here, under the clear daylight, something stirred beneath the peace of it all. The air hummed faintly, almost like a low chord in a song I couldn’t hear all the way.

Kade tugged me toward a patch of soft grass near the water’s edge. I only then noticed the checkered blanket already spread out, weighed down at the corners with smooth river stones. A wicker basket sat neatly in the middle, sunlight catching on its polished brass latch.

I blinked. “You planned this?”

Kade smirked, dropping down on the blanket like he owned the place. “What did you expect? Just a joyride and some flowers? Give me some credit, Tal.”

I hugged the bouquet to my chest, cheeks warming. “Honestly… yes. That’s more than enough already.”

He didn’t answer right away, just opened the basket with an almost casual grace. Inside, there were little sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, a cluster of grapes still on the vine, even a small chocolate cake nestled carefully in a tin. My stomach growled traitorously.

I gasped, eyes wide. “You brought cake?!”

Kade chuckled, shaking his head. “Of all the things to notice first…”

I plopped down beside him, tugging at the cake tin with greedy fingers. “It’s chocolate! Do you know how rare this is for me? The headmistress at the orphanage used to guard sweets like they were gold bars.”

His expression softened at that, just for a second, before he leaned back on his hands. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I brought it.”

I froze, the words catching me off guard. My heart squeezed— realizing just how much Kade had paid attention to my life, the small wants, the tiny longings.

Smiling, I tore into the cake with a fork he handed me. “Best friend ever. Officially.”

He gave a low laugh, but when I glanced at him, his green eyes weren’t laughing at all. They were steady. Focused. Too focused.

I quickly turned my attention back to the cake, pretending not to notice.

The afternoon light rippled across the lake, the whole world seeming golden for a moment. I thought of how rare this was—for someone like me, who grew up with so little, to sit by a sparkling lake eating chocolate cake with a friend who had always been there for me.

Simple, perfect happiness.

I sat down slowly, the blanket soft beneath my palms, and for a moment my chest ached in the strangest way. Everything here—the blanket, the food, the flowers—felt like too much. Overwhelming, almost.

Kade always did this. Always thought of the things I never even knew to ask for. Always made sure I had what I needed, or swooped in when trouble found me. I thought back to all the times he’d stood up for me, shielded me, made me laugh when the world felt sharp and unforgiving.

And what had I ever given him in return?

Nothing. Not really. Just my clumsy loyalty, my endless string of mistakes he always had to pull me out of. All I ever did was tag along in his shadow, scraping my knees on life while he was the one patching me up.

The guilt pressed at me as I looked at the basket he’d prepared so carefully, at the white roses still resting in my lap. My throat felt tight, and I fiddled with the ribbon around the bouquet to distract myself.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” I said softly. “I don’t… I don’t deserve it.”

Kade glanced at me, brow furrowing, but then he smiled in that easy way of his. “Talia, don’t start that. You deserve more than this. Way more.”

I looked away quickly, not wanting him to see my eyes sting. It wasn’t fair. He gave me everything, and I didn’t even know how to give anything back.

But he didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he did, and just chose not to say anything. Instead, he reached into the basket and handed me a sandwich like it was the simplest thing in the world. “Eat. You think too much.”

I laughed weakly, forcing the heaviness away. But as I bit into the sandwich, I couldn’t shake the thought—maybe I was a bad friend. Maybe I’d never truly be able to repay him for everything.

And yet, he stayed.

Always, he stayed.

I held the sandwich in my hands, staring down at it longer than I should have. He was always feeding me, always making sure I had more than enough. And it hit me again—that weight, that imbalance between us.

I remembered once, when we were younger. It was his birthday, and I wanted to give him something, anything, that was mine to give. The orphanage never celebrated birthdays, not for us, not for anyone. But I thought—maybe if I snuck into the kitchen, I could bake him a little cake. Something small. Something just for him.

I was only eleven. I didn’t know how ovens worked, didn’t know how loud flour bags could be when you dropped them. I didn’t even get to the part with candles before the headmistress found me.

She dragged me out by the arm, scolding me for wasting food, for “thinking above my place.” And then—my stomach tightened at the memory—she locked me in the cellar. Three days. No light. One glass of water, a crust of bread.

I’d never felt so small, so unwanted. But I’d endured it with one thought burning in me: it was worth it, because I’d tried. I’d wanted to give Kade something, even if I failed.

When they finally let me out, I never told him why my knees were scraped, or why my voice was hoarse. He smiled at me like nothing was wrong, and I smiled back. That was enough.

And now here he was, years later, setting out feasts for me in sunlit fields, handing me roses as if it were nothing. And I… what did I ever manage to give him that didn’t come with pain or trouble?

I bit into the sandwich to keep from speaking, chewing hard against the sudden ache in my chest.

Kade leaned back on his elbows, watching me with that calm patience he always had. “You’re quiet,” he said, tilting his head. “Not like you.”

I swallowed around the lump in my throat and shook my head. “Just… thinking.”

He didn’t press. Instead, he reached for the grapes and held one out to me. “Share your thoughts with a grape,” he said, and I laughed despite the tightness in my chest. The simplicity of it made the ache lighter somehow.

The breeze teased at my hair again, carrying the faint rustle of leaves and the scent of the lake. I picked up a piece of chocolate cake this time, staring at it as if it held all the answers. Somehow, even sweet things reminded me of the cellar—the smell of baking, the hope I’d poured into that tiny cake I’d tried to make for him so long ago. I had carried that hope through the darkness of that punishment, the sting of feeling so small.

“Do you… remember your first cake?” I asked softly, voice almost a whisper over the water. Kade blinked, then smiled faintly, nodding. “You mean the one you never got to give me?”

I nodded, cheeks warm. “I tried. And I got… punished. Locked away.” The memory made my fingers tense around the fork. “I thought it didn’t matter, but—” I trailed off, shaking my head.

He reached across the blanket and touched my hand lightly. “Talia… you don’t owe me anything. You never did. The fact that you tried—that’s more than enough. And now? Now we get to do it together. No cellar, no scolding. Just… this.”

The water shimmered in the sun, the dragonfly darting low and fast across the surface. I let myself lean a little closer to him, the tension in my shoulders easing as I did. Maybe I wasn’t giving him grand gestures like he gave me, but in this moment, sitting by the lake with him, sharing sandwiches and chocolate cake, maybe that was enough too.

We ate in a quiet rhythm after that, the silence comfortable, punctuated only by soft laughter when Kade made some absurd comment about the wind stealing his hat, or when I tried to get the last grape from the cluster before him.

I wiped chocolate smudges from my fingers, still feeling the tug of old memories and the ache of wanting to give back something meaningful. Kade watched me, one brow quirking up, a sly smile tugging at his lips.

“Thinking about punishing orphanage headmistresses again?” he asked, voice teasing but soft.

I rolled my eyes, though the corners of my mouth threatened a smile. “Maybe,” I admitted. “Just… wondering how I ever got out alive.”

He chuckled, leaning closer so his shoulder brushed mine. “You survived because you had guts. And because you cared enough to try. That’s… more than most people ever do.”

I shook my head, laughing softly despite the sting in my chest. “I still feel like I owe you. Every time you do something like this… I’m reminded of how little I’ve given you in return.”

Kade nudged me lightly with his elbow. “You think too much. You’re here. You’re laughing at my terrible jokes. You’re letting me make you sandwiches and cake by the lake. That’s giving me more than anything else ever could.”

I glanced at him, his green eyes steady and warm, and felt some of the heaviness lift. Maybe I didn’t need grand gestures or perfect gifts to match everything he’d done. Maybe simply being present, simply letting him share this moment with me, was enough.

I smiled, a little lighter this time, and took another bite of cake. “I’ll try to remember that,” I said.

“Good,” he said, grinning. “Because I plan on many more picnics—and many more terrible jokes.”

And just like that, the guilt and old fears eased, replaced with the quiet, steady happiness that only Kade could make feel safe.

I was just lifting another forkful of chocolate cake when a sudden movement caught me off guard. Before I could react, Kade leaned over and snagged a bite right off my plate.

“Hey!” I exclaimed, laughing, trying to snatch it back. “That’s mine!”

He chewed deliberately, eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s too good to resist. Sharing is caring, right?”

I swatted at him lightly, but the laughter in my chest made it impossible to stay mad. “You’re impossible.”

He grinned, leaning back and holding the stolen bite like a trophy. “And you love it.”

I shook my head, smiling despite myself, and tore off another piece of cake for myself. “You really don’t give me a chance, do you?”

“Not a single one,” he replied, shrugging as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Besides… it’s fun watching you pretend to be mad while you secretly enjoy it.”

I bit into my cake, the rich chocolate melting in my mouth, and caught him watching me with that steady, unreadable look that somehow always made my chest feel lighter. He stayed like that—teasing, playful, present—and I let myself sink into it.

For once, I didn’t think about owing him, or failing him, or the cellar from long ago. For once, I just let myself be here, laughing, eating cake, and sitting by the lake with Kade.