Chapter 13: Finding Forever: Chapter 12

Cade was quiet and distant for the remainder of their visit. He barely exchanged one word with Fern, and when they got home, Fern tentatively broached the subject after putting the foil wrapped leftovers in the fridge.

He was standing at the kitchen counter, phone in hand, thumb flicking as he scrolled through whatever ultra-important Sunday evening correspondence he’d received while enjoying an afternoon off with his family.

“You’re angry,” she said, biting the bullet and just wading right to the crux of the matter. His thumb stopped moving but he didn’t lift his head and she wondered if that was because he was reading an email or text.

His jaw was tight, muscles leaping and bunching as he clearly gritted his teeth and she immediately recognized that he was biting back whatever he really wanted to say in response to her words.

“Cade?”

He lifted his eyes—just his eyes—which, with his head still bowed, gave him a sinister mien that sent a shudder of unease skittering down her spine.

“You’re a guest in this family, Fern,” he said with studied indifference, his voice arctic. “And as such I’d prefer you didn’t go stirring up unnecessary drama.”

Fern folded her arms over her chest, remembering Beth’s words not to let him bully her, and lifted her chin as she met that baleful glare head on, despite the fact that every instinct she had told her to run and hide and not come out again until she was certain she could remain unseen and unnoticed by the predatory alpha she’d married.

“And what drama would that be?” she asked, hoping to get some sort of rise out him. Because at least there was honesty in anger. “What exactly has your knickers in such a twist?”

His lips tightened and his nostrils flared, he clearly didn’t like being questioned. He probably preferred to sulk in silence, leaving Fern uncomfortable and uncertain and too afraid to even sneeze for fear of upsetting him.

Well, Fern had spent too many years in that same miserable state of existence. This was supposed to be the “new leaf” phase of her life, damn it.

“You shouldn’t have asked about my name.”

Aah, there it was.

On a related note: What the hell?

She took a moment to gather herself and pursed her lips, as well as, tilted her head as she stared at him, pretending to think it over before snapping her fingers in a dramatic I got it way.

“Then perhaps you should give me a list of taboo talking points next time? A nice neat list of do’s and don’ts and I’ll stick to the script like a good little girl.” She delivered the suggestion in her most reasonable tone of voice. “Just text them to me before we head out and we can go over them on the drive to wherever. That’s how Granger would do it.”

“I’m nothing like fucking Granger Abernathy,” he spat out in disgust and she raised her eyebrows and stood her ground despite the fact that she was quaking inside.

“No? Then maybe stop acting like him? Because intimidation and coercion are very much his favorite methods of control.”

“You’re deliberately subverting the point.” His voice was tight with frustration.

“Am I?”

“You knew even as you asked it that it wasn’t something I’d be comfortable discussing with my siblings.”

“I knew no such thing! I had no idea I was stepping into forbidden territory. How was I supposed to know you had some weird hang up about your name? I wanted to change the subject since you decided it was okay to say those horrible things about me. The comments about my emotional growth and possible choice in clothing were offensive. And spoken with such authority. As if you know any damned thing about me. I’m not a teenager, I don’t think like a teenager, I wouldn’t want to dress like one either.”

“You’ve spent the last decade and a half around adolescents, it’s not an unreasonable assumption that you’d have the emotional depth and taste of one.”

Her jaw dropped and she gasped.

“And you say you’re nothing like Granger? Maybe take a good hard look in the mirror, Cade, because that’s eerily similar to the things he’s been saying to me for the last fifteen years.” She felt a moment of lonely, echoing sorrow, before she continued, “He always made me feel like I’d messed up and said the wrong things. That’s the excuse he used to send me away. And keep me away. And I didn’t even mind it, because it was so much better than living in that house. Stifled, silenced, afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing.

“So, why don’t you tell me what you expect from me when we go out in public together, Cade… and while we’re at it, I’ll compile a list of things I’d prefer you not say to me in public too. That way we’ll both know where we stand.”

She swallowed, the previously undiscovered well of courage she’d been drawing from abruptly running dry.

He’d lifted his head, his expression no longer filled with anger and malice. Instead, he looked exhausted and strained.

“Look, Fern, I don’t give a fuck if you mess up or put your foot in your mouth, or say whatever cringey shit at any given moment. But we’re strangers. And some things are…” His voice was quieter now, but roughened with emotion. “Some things are private. Okay? Yes, we’re married and I want you to feel at home in my space, but there has to be boundaries. You’re not entitled to my every goddamned secret just because we’re temporarily sharing a last name. We don’t have that kind of relationship. We don’t have any kind of relationship. Don’t pry into my private life and we’ll get along fine. The thing with my name it’s—fuck—it’s sensitive. Aye? And stirs up some shit that I’d prefer stay buried. My brothers, Kenny, they don’t even know how badly I… how it affected…”

He ran out of words, seeming unable to continue in any coherent way. And Fern recognized that if he had difficulty even speaking to his siblings about it, as that rambling, incoherent response implied, he’d find it near impossible to discuss it with the stranger masquerading as his wife.

“You’re right, Cade, some things are private. And if I’d known this was one of those things, I would never have brought it up. So a heads up would have been nice.” she said after a moment’s pause. She could understand why he felt she’d overstepped. But she couldn’t agree with it. Not when she’d had no clue that something as simple as a name would trigger all these complicated emotions in him.

“Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have compared you to Granger. But you were also wrong, Cade. Yes, I lived with and taught adolescents for a large chunk of my life, and I may not have had the opportunity to do my own shopping, but I do have a brain and eyes. And opinions. But my emotional intelligence is well-developed enough to know better than to insult someone for no good reason. You had no right to humiliate me in front of your family like that. I did nothing to deserve it.”

Cade sighed, a long, tired exhalation of air.

“For what it’s worth, they all liked you.”

She nodded, not sure how to respond to that. Because whether they liked her or she liked them, it didn’t matter. As he’d so kindly reminded her, she was just a guest in this family, and getting too attached to them would be dangerous. There was no place for her here.

She wrapped her arms around her slender frame, trying to fight back a shiver, but he saw it, and his eyes darkened with concern.

“Are you cold?”

“No… I’m okay. Just—” Her voice trailed off. She didn’t know what she was. Sad maybe. Depressed, for sure.

“Just what?”

“Tired. I think I’ll head to bed.”

He nodded, but continued to watch her uncertainly. His teeth raked over his bottom lip a couple of times and he looked as if he was about to say something, which left her suspended in limbo just as she was about to turn away and head to her room.

She waited for a beat… then two. But he remained silent and she swallowed down her disappointment as she swiveled on her heel and with a swift goodnight thrown over her shoulder, retreated to her room.

The I’m sorry that hovered on the tip of his tongue remained unspoken as Cade watched Fern flee from the living room. He’d overreacted. He knew that. He’d overreacted because she’d broached a subject that he’d never once brought up himself. Because he was the fucking coward who’d simply allowed the unacceptable to slide when he should have stood up for himself twenty years ago.

She was right, he’d made her feel small, insignificant, voiceless—tactics straight out of her asshole stepfather’s playbook—and then he’d stood back and allowed her to apologize to him for it.

He’d noticed that she had a tendency to back down, to take the blame and apologize rather than stand her ground or push back. So seeing her stand up for herself had been unexpected and somewhat gratifying. Despite the fact that she’d compared him to Abernathy—which had pissed him the fuck off—he knew that she would never have defended herself so vehemently to her stepfather. Which made Cade believe that even though it had only been a couple of days, she felt comfortable enough with him, safe enough to speak her mind.

She shouldn’t have had to. He could have been less… defensive. He hadn’t even realized that he still carried all of that baggage about his name until she’d brought it up.

It didn’t help that hearing her call him Cade these last few days had felt so familiar. He felt lighter, unburdened, almost—shit, the only word he could think of was—happy whenever the name fell with such ease from her lips. While having his own family call him Niall this afternoon, after he’d spent the last few days responding only to Cade, had felt suffocating. And none of those complex emotions had even properly registered until Fern had asked about it.

Fuck.

He grimaced and squeezed the back of his neck, as another tension headache began to form at the base of his skull. He’d been on edge all afternoon, at first nervous about seeing Nox again after so long, then irrationally annoyed with his long-lost brother for making that fucking off-color comment about him being Fern’s husband if things had been different.

It didn’t help that it was likely true. And it definitely didn’t help that Cade believed that it would’ve been better for Fern if that was how it had worked out. And Cade was confused about why he gave a fuck in the first place.

It hadn’t happened. He was the one saddled with the wife. That couldn’t change. But for some unfathomable reason it had still pissed him the hell off when Fern had so tartly suggested a straight swap between him and Nox.

Even now the mere thought of it…

He clenched his teeth and shook his head, annoyed with himself for going there. Perhaps his irritation stemmed from the fact that it couldn’t happen. That it was too late for that. That once again Cade was the one making the big sacrifices for the family and the company. If Nox had pitched up a week earlier maybe Fern would be his wife… his problem.

But that wouldn’t make the baby in her womb Nox’s. That was one thing his brother couldn’t take responsibility for. Ownership of. That was Cade and Cade’s alone.

He wasn’t sure why that sent a mad, adrenaline thumping wave of fierce satisfaction careening through his system. It made no sense at all.

But nothing in Cade’s usually well-ordered life currently did.

The following morning Fern found a handwritten list of local OBGYNs waiting for her on the kitchen counter.

Scrawled in an aggressive slashing masculine hand, the list consisted of five names and corresponding contact numbers, below which he’d demanded:

Pick one. Make an appointment for today.

The today had been underlined three times.

As if it would be that easy to get a same day appointment from a busy OBGYN. Fern rolled her eyes at his unrealistic expectations and slid onto one of the high barstools.

It was just before nine and even though she doubted she’d get an appointment today, she still decided to do a bit of research into the doctors on the list. A quick check on her phone confirmed that he’d recommended the five top-rated doctors in the area.

Naturally.

Which would only make getting an appointment with any of them even less likely.

She snorted softly and put her phone down on the countertop.

The apartment was eerily quiet, the silence broken only by the ominous ticking of the massive clock in the living room. She knew Cade wasn’t home. She’d been up for at least two hours and had remained in her room, fully dressed, hoping to hear him leave. About ten minutes ago, she’d heard the biometrics pad at the front door beep followed by the quiet snick of the door opening.

She wasn’t on the system yet, but yesterday—just before they’d left for Beth and Gideon’s—he’d handed her a keycard to bypass the biometrics system in case she needed to go anywhere without him. Upon presentation of said card, he’d given her a meaningful glower before warning in a dire tone: “It would, however, be best if you did not go wandering off on your own. Who knows what the fuck trouble you could get yourself into.”

As if she were a puppy who wasn’t quite trained enough to heel when recalled.

She shook her head and slid off the chair and looked around the living room. She hadn’t had much time to explore the place since arriving. She was pretty familiar with this part of the apartment and was curious about the other rooms.

Rooms she’d considered off-limits, because they were clearly Cade’s domain. His office, his bedroom, the other room with the always closed door.

Maybe it was snooping, but he had told her this was her home too, right? So just taking a quick peek surely wouldn’t do any harm. Especially since this was essentially a holiday home for him and wouldn’t contain too many personal effects.

The study was pretty spartan. A large desk, and ergonomic desk chair. His laptop was shut, the desktop monitor dark. There was nothing in here to reflect his tastes. It was a beige and white, basic, boring, perfectly serviceable space.

She didn’t bother to step into the room, just had a quick glance around before shutting the door firmly and heading to his bedroom.

It smelled like him. Fresh and spicy and appealing. It was neat as a pin. Bed made, not a single item of clothing lying about to indicate that this was a lived-in space. A bit more color in here—brown and white with pops of blue. In another room the king-sized bed would dominate the space, but it was massive and airy in here and any other bed would’ve been too small and out of place in here.

She liked this room, with its huge picture windows that showcased the magnificent views. And wondered if Cade appreciated the stunning beauty of this panoramic view as much as she did.

She retreated back into the hallway. Neither room had given her much insight into her husband’s personality. And as she tentatively approached the closed door at the far end of the hallway, she felt like a bride in Bluebird’s castle. While he hadn’t explicitly told her that it was off-limits, it still felt like she was about to do something taboo.

She half expected it to be locked, but it swung open smoothly and she blinked in confusion at the sight of the empty craft table with a tall stool that had been placed next to the window. There was also a neatly organized craft storage cabinet running all along the left wall of the room.

She wandered over to the table, trying to get some understanding of what it was he likely worked on it here. There was a round magnifying lamp on one side of the table, along with a plethora of mysterious tools, in pristine condition, all precisely laid out on a felt cloth. Even though he didn’t appear to be currently working on a project—probably because he hadn’t expected to be in Cape Town for very long—Fern found it telling that whatever his hobby was, he enjoyed it so much he’d gone to the trouble to set up a hobby room in an apartment he rarely frequented. Which meant, he likely had a similar room set up in some of his other properties as well.

Her curiosity was well and truly fired now and, keeping her hands folded behind her back to prevent herself from touching, she peered into the assorted transparent plastic containers, which were displayed on the open shelving in the storage cabinet. Little gears and tiny screws and… well those looked like watch hands.

From what she gather from the contents of those containers, she guessed he restored and repaired watches or clocks maybe.

How fascinating.

That had to take a great deal of time and patience and very steady hands… but with what she knew about Cade’s temperament, a hobby like that would suit him perfectly.

She curbed the impulse to snoop even further and retreated back to the kitchen intent on finding something to eat. His fridge was fully stocked, of course—Cade was nothing if not exceptionally well organized—but Fern felt nauseous as usual and settled on dry toast and black tea as her breakfast of choice.

She carried her plate and mug out onto the patio—her favorite place in the whole apartment—and curled up on the comfortable sofa. It was a pretty day, sunny and pleasantly warm, the sky was a beautiful shade of azure that melted seamlessly into the deeper cobalt of the ocean on the horizon.

Even though it was Monday morning, there were plenty of people already on the beach and Fern wondered about their lives. Were they on vacation? Did they work from home? Or were they like her? Aimless and without any real purpose?

The thought depressed her and her hand went to her abdomen as she contemplated her future as a mother. For the first time she wondered if she so desperately wanted this baby only because it would give her life some meaning. It wasn’t the best reason to have a baby. Her life couldn’t revolve around another person, even if it was her child. It wouldn’t be healthy for her or for the baby.

Fern needed to figure out what she wanted from life before she had this child.

As she nibbled on her dry toast, her mind wandered, going back to the dreams she’d once had. She put her empty plate on the coffee table and reached for her phone, impulsively doing a search on pediatric occupational therapy. She’d always wanted to help children with cognitive and developmental disabilities. Ever since one of her classmates—later diagnosed with a form of autism—had struggled, and ultimately failed, to adapt to a so-called “normal” classroom environment.

The girl had often been punished, labeled as obstructive and stubborn, and had become more and more closed off until her parents had been forced to homeschool her.

Years later, when Fern had “assisted” the teachers at her old school, she’d been the one to take the girls with learning disabilities under her wing. It had felt like a calling that was forever out of reach.

Granger had always insisted that Fern was too “stupid” for further education. But after doing the bare minimum research, she now recognized that her high school grades had been above and beyond the requirements.

Why had she ever believed a word that man said?

Fern had, in fact, excelled in all subjects in the vain hope of persuading Granger that she was good enough for university, but he hadn’t cared. She now knew that he would never have agreed, even if she’d scored perfect grades.

Allowing her the freedom to attend university would have meant relinquishing too much control over her.

Now, as she stared at the list of requirements the years of studying and community service a career in occupational therapy would demand, Fern wondered what if…

Could she do this? As a single mother, with a small child, and no support system? Was it even possible?

As she stared sightlessly out at the horizon, she contemplated her life and where she was at this very moment. And for the first time in years Fern felt like she could do anything. No matter how difficult. With the almost limitless resources she would soon have at her disposal, nothing was beyond her reach.

Her lips stretched into a smile, and excitement began to fizz through her veins. She could do this. She would do this. She couldn’t quite contain a tiny, burbling squee of excitement.

“What’s wrong?” Cade’s alarmed voice coming from behind her made Fern physically jump in fright and her head whipped around to find him in the doorway, dressed in a loose black tank top, a pair of mid-thigh length black shorts, and running shoes. Her eyes skittered up and down his big frame as she tried to take in as much as she could in a few brief seconds. Heavily muscled shoulders, arms, thighs, calves… oh my.

God, the man was magnificent. His tanned skin was gleaming with sweat, his hair wet and slicked back. His tank top had slipped to reveal a flat, brown nipple nestled in among a silky smattering of chest hair.

Fern squeaked, hand flying to her mouth as she gaped at her gorgeous husband, who was staring at her with a heavy frown on his face.

“Fern? Are you okay?”

“Erm, I’m fine thanks. How are you?” Oh, come on. She nearly curled up in embarrassment at her inane response.

His beautiful lips tilted upwards at the corners.

“I’m good. You seemed in distress earlier. I was worried that it may have been the—” A vague wave toward her midsection. “That.”

“No, it had nothing to do with the that,” Fern said. “I was excited about something.”

“Aye?” he asked. “What?”

“You were out running?”

“Hmm.”

“I thought you went to work or something. Your company has offices here, right?”

“I’m on my honeymoon,” he told her with a nonchalant shrug.

“Oh, yes, of course. I forgot.”

“What were you excited about?”

“You’ll think it’s stupid.” And abruptly she thought it was stupid too. Doubt immediately swamped her as she wondered what on earth had made her think she could pursue a four-to-five-year degree at this stage in her life. She was too old. She didn’t have the strength of character to see it through.

Oh God, she… was doing it again. Doubting herself.

Crap.

“Why not let me be the judge of that?” Cade suggested, looking mildly annoyed that she’d presumed to know what he’d think.

“I’ve decided to pursue a career in occupational therapy,” she told him, her voice firm, chin tilted upward defiantly as she braced for his ridicule.

“Why would you assume I’d think that’s stupid?” He sounded affronted. He stepped onto the patio and took the seat across from her, legs spread, forearms braced on his thickly muscled thighs, with his hands dangling between his knees as he glowered at her.

“I’m too old,” she whispered.

“That sounds like an excuse not to do something. Not a reason. What else have you got?”

“I’m not strong enough?”

“It takes strength? I mean you could always build some muscle. We can start you on an exercise regime tom⁠—”

“I mean mentally strong,” she interrupted quickly, more than a little touched that he’d immediately sought a solution to the perceived problem.

He stared at her for a long moment before actually laughing in her face. It was a short, sharp, clearly mocking sound that seemed to surprise even him.

“Fern, you just managed to stymie a deal months in the making between two massive global corporations, pretty much fucking over one of them in the process. It takes mental and emotional fortitude to go against everything you’ve ever known and leap into the unknown like that. I don’t think you need to worry about being mentally strong.”

Her heart swelled to about three times its normal size as his words filled her with pride. She had done that, hadn’t she? His praise made her preen a little… and she shamelessly wanted more.

“And, I mean, I’m pregnant. Sure, I’ll have access to the best childcare and all of that, but… I’d still have to take time off to have the baby, then maternity leave, and then find the right person to take care of my baby when I’m studying. It’s just that the timing isn’t great,” she said, only to see what his response to that would be. She was gratified when he exhaled noisily, his impatience clear.

“Will it ever be?”

She considered his words, chewing on her lip thoughtfully. He was right. If she used the pregnancy as an excuse not to move forward, she’d later use the baby, then he’d be a toddler, then he’d be at school, then onto high school… there would always be an excuse not to do this.

The only reason she had to go ahead with it was because she wanted it. And that would never feel like a good enough reason. What Fern wanted had never been considered valid or important enough by anyone in her life before.

“I’ve never really done anything because I wanted to do it,” she admitted.

“Bullshit,” he scoffed. “I seem to recall you going off with a strange man at a party not so long ago, just for the hell of it.”

“And look how that turned out,” she reminded him.

“Granted, winding up pregnant after a below average quickie, wasn’t quite ideal, but at least you went for it, right?”

“Yes. And at least I now know what it’s like to have sex.”

“Whoa now, lass,” he said, holding up a hand. “Let’s not get carried away. I’m honor bound to point out that you do not, in fact, know what it’s like to have sex. Not really. Sure you know the ins and outs of it”—He allowed himself a juvenile little snort at that, which, in turn, made Fern laugh.—“But real sex? What that encounter should have been? It’s nothing close to what happened between us that night.”

“Well, then…” she murmured, sounding breathless and a little daring, as she held his stare, her eyes running over that chiseled face, those long, spiky lashes, that beautiful mouth with its pillowy, sensuous bottom lip. “How should it have been, Cade?”

He hesitated, a deep red flush staining the line of his cheekbones, as his own gaze raked over her face, then over her body, clad in another awful shapeless blouse and skirt combination. That same piercing gaze lifted to her long, loose hair, and took on a smoky intensity that stole her breath away.

“Hot. Wet. Messy. Wild. Intense. It should have left you wrung out and desperate for more.”