Crossed: Chapter 37

“JASON THINKS I’M FREE AND CLEAR.” I RUSH OUT the words, trying to shift the air into something less…whatever this is.

I’m standing in Cade’s kitchen and he’s staring at me with a look. That look, the one he gives when he’s about to do something bad. Something forbidden.

His brows lift and he leans against the countertop, crossing his arms. “Oh?”

I nod. I haven’t actually talked to Jason, despite me asking Parker if we could once the newest murder hit the news. He said there was no reason to, that the police were in my home because of the broken window when the murder took place, and there’s no way I could have been in both places at once.

I have an alibi. I have an alibi.

Although they could still try to pin the other murders on me, I suppose, but Jason seems to think they’ll be harder to prove since all three victims had the same strangulation marks on their necks, and the last two specifically seem to have been mutilated in the exact same way.

I’m relieved, but after the relief came the questions. I’ve spent days connecting the dots, and they all lead to one thing.

Cade.

“There was another murder,” I say, watching him carefully.

“Did you know?” He nods. “I did.”

“Did you care?”

It’s a far stretch to think he had anything to do with this, but my intuition is strong and it’s never steered me wrong.

I’m still debating on whether the idea horrifies me or fascinates me.

Is it too crazy to think Cade could be the reason behind all this?

He has a tendency to follow me, and there’ve been numerous times around him when I felt my hair stand on end and the red flags wave, warning me I was in danger. Was he also at the Chapel that night with Andrew?

But then I think of Candace also having the strangulation marks, and it just doesn’t add up.

It couldn’t be him.

Unless Candace was a fluke.

Maybe I’m connecting dots where there’s nothing to connect because in some sick, twisted way, the thought of Cade being the one to murder the man who assaulted me and then killing another to clear my name…it’s exhilarating.

Nobody has ever protected me that way. No one has ever cared.

“Amaya.” His voice brings me out of my thoughts. “Where did you just go?”

Smiling, I shake my head. “Just thinking, I guess.”

“Well,” he continues, turning to put the tea kettle on the stove. “I do care. Of course I care.”

“Okay.” I chew on my lip, fingering the pearl and emerald necklace around my neck.

He spins back around to face me. “Will you marry him then?”

“I…what?”

“Parker.” He takes a step toward me. “Don’t tell me you love him.”

My fingers twist together. “It’s complicated.” Cade scoffs.

“He won’t let me go,” I defend.

Cade’s eyes darken and he takes another step.

And another. I put my hand out to stop him when he moves in again, and my palm hits his torso, halting him. I swallow thickly, my chest pulling tight. “You know he won’t let me go.”

I feel his breath on my hair, and I look up, seeing the muscle in his sharp jaw tick. “You don’t belong to him, mon trésor.”

Our eyes lock, and my fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt.

“Then who do I belong to?”

A sharp whistle cuts into the moment and we jump apart.

“Tea?” Cade rasps, running a hand through his hair and turning to take the kettle off the stove.

“Sure, yeah.” I twist my fingers together again to stop the tremble.

He pulls down the mugs and prepares the tea, and I step farther into the kitchen, sitting down in one of the chairs.

When he comes to join me at the table, I ask, “Do you think someone saw us come in here?”

He tilts his head. “Does it matter?”

I grab the mug, the heat singeing my skin. I use the slight discomfort to ground me in the moment instead of letting my mind wander away the way it really wants to.

“You tell me.” I lift a shoulder. “You’re the one with the reputation on the line.”

He sits down, bringing the cup to his mouth and blowing on the hot liquid before taking a sip. I watch the way his lips mold around the cup and then the way his throat works with his swallow, heat spreading down my spine and pooling between my legs.

“We aren’t doing anything I wouldn’t do with anyone else in the parish,” he comments.

That hurts in a way I didn’t expect.

“Oh, okay.” I nod, bringing the tea to my lips so I don’t say something I’ll regret. I watch him from over the lip of the cup, that deep-seated curiosity rising up again. “What do you do at night?”

He quirks a brow, taking another sip. “I think you know.”

My cheeks flush and my clit throbs, and I’m so. Fucking. Ridiculous. I slam down my mug, hot tea sloshing over the sides.

“Are we ever going to talk about things?”

“I’d rather not.”

Nodding slowly, I tap my fingers on the table, trying to rein in the sudden rush of anger. “Fine. Well, I meant after that thing we’re definitely not talking about. Actually, after that last specific time we’re not talking about…where were you?”

“Here, obviously.” He tilts his head. “Where else would I be?”

I shrug, trying to read between the lines of a man who’s impossible to read. “I don’t know what you do with your time. Out of the two of us, I’m not the one with a habit of stalking.”

He blinks, and then a slow grin spreads across his face, and he stands up, chuckling and shaking his head. Like I’m the unbelievable one.

I pick up my mug again and huff, but before I can take another drink, he’s right here in front of me, his fingers brushing mine as he pulls the cup from my hand.

My stomach flips.

“Come on,” he says, placing it back down. “We need to head back.”

We don’t, actually. But I understand his need the same way he must understand mine. It doesn’t need to be spoken. He’s trying to be good, to not let us stay alone for too long, because we both know what could happen if we do.

Or maybe he doesn’t like me questioning his whereabouts.

That intuitive feeling rears its head again, but I don’t push him for more. Instead, I nod and agree, already standing up and heading back to the living room to grab my coat and gloves, because I don’t trust myself either.

“You know.” I look at him from my peripheral vision as we walk down the path back to the cathedral. “You kind of suck at these one- on- one sessions.”

He chuckles, his breath blowing into the icy sky like a cloud. “The sessions are only because my superior demands it. Because your fiancé has deep pockets and uses them to sway the church.”

I bite my lip. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Oui.” He shrugs. “But politics and bribery are the way of man.”

I stop walking, glancing over at him, needing him to know.

“Cade,” I murmur, my hand reaching out to grasp his forearm.

He stops, looking down at me.

“I’m moving in with him tomorrow.”