What a wasted wreck he’d been the past few days. His PTSD hadn’t flared like this for years. For most of the weekend, he hadn’t slept, and when he had, the nightmares had been torturous. His mind was like a maze full of dark corners and dead-ends and looming shadows. He’d had no appetite, and the two times he’d tried to eat, he’d thrown it back up again. Luckily, Makenna had left on Sunday evening before he’d lost the soup and crackers she’d brought him. Aches racked his body like he really had been sick, and he’d had a non-stop headache since Friday night that made it hard to think.
All of which was why he was hoofing it up the steps. In the lobby, he’d stood in front of the open elevator door for a long moment before his central nervous system had threatened a full-on lock-down, and he’d known he just couldn’t get in that little box. No matter how short a ride it would be. That’s how out of control his bullshit was right now.
The last twenty-four hours had been his first shift back to work, and getting out of bed to get his ass down to the station had taken Herculean effort. Not to mention making it through the shift itself. It felt like he was walking through molasses-filled air that made his limbs heavy and his muscles tired.
He’d finally given in and made an appointment with his doctor.
As he stepped out into the fifth-floor hallway, Caden recalled feeling this bad once before.
When he’d been eighteen. During the weeks leading up to high school graduation, when he hadn’t yet known exactly what he was going to do with his life but had at least known he couldn’t keep living with his bitter shell of a father. The uncertainty of the situation and his father’s near-total abdication of parental responsibility for or interest in Caden had been bad enough. But it was also what would’ve been Sean’s sixteenth birthday, and the combination sent Caden into a downward spiral that had ultimately resulted in a diagnosis of depression.
And fuck if Caden wasn’t feeling the similarities with that time more than he wanted to admit.
It felt like such a colossal defeat after having held himself together for so long. And now everything seemed to be coming apart at the seams.
It was all almost more than he could bear. And didn’t that make him feel weak and worthless. He was better than this. He should be better than this. Sonofabitch.
He slid his key into the lock on the apartment door, eager to see Makenna. It had helped seeing her Sunday night, when she’d been so sweet as to bring him that care package. She was the light to Caden’s darkness and had been since they’d been trapped in that elevator. If anyone could take some of the weight off his shoulders, if anyone could make it easier for him to breathe, it would be her.
Stepping into the apartment, he was instantly surrounded by the rich, spicy smell of tomato sauce, and for the first time in days, he actually felt hungry. “Red? I’m home,” he called.
Makenna rushed out of her bedroom, wearing a pair of jeans and a blue sweater and the most beautiful smile. “There you are,” she said, rushing right up to him. She flung her arms around his neck. “God, I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” he said, reveling in the press of her soft heat against all his cold hardness.
Loosening her hold, she pushed onto tiptoes and kissed him in a soft meeting of lips that quickly deepened to more. “Really missed you,” she whispered.
Caden managed a little chuckle as he slid his hand into all that gorgeous red hair. “I can tell.”
Makenna pulled back and gave him a smile. “Are you feeling better?”
He nodded, because what else was he going to do? And being with her did make him feel better, so it wasn’t really a lie. “What smells so good?”
“I made spaghetti sauce and meatballs. All I have to do is cook the noodles and dinner will be ready. You hungry?”
“I could eat,” he said. He’d kept down the small cup of corn chowder he’d eaten for lunch at the firehouse, so he was hopeful that his body would let him have this.
“Good,” she said, slipping away to the stove. She turned on the burner under a big pot. “Make yourself comfortable. Everything will be ready in less than fifteen.”
“Okay,” he said, heading for the bedroom. He changed out of his uniform into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and then he sagged down to sit on the edge of the bed. Exhaustion settled over him like a lead blanket. God, what was wrong with him?
You know what’s wrong, Grayson.
Yeah, he probably did. Goddamnit.
But for the next few hours, he was going to let all that go and just be with Makenna. If that was possible. He hauled himself off the bed and returned to the kitchen to help get dinner ready. Soon, they were seated at the table with mounding servings of spaghetti, sauce, and meatballs. Crusty, warm garlic bread filled a little basket, and Caden took a big piece for himself.
“This looks fantastic,” he said.
“Good. Eat up. There’s tons left,” she said.
They dug in and ate in silence for a while—which was really unusual for Makenna. She’d always been the one initiating conversation or keeping it going. The talkative yin to his quiet yang.
Looking at her, he asked, “How was your day?”
“Oh.” She looked up. Gave a little shrug and a nervous laugh. “The usual,” she said, waving her fork.
Since he was the king of nervous awkwardness, he recognized it when he saw it. “Is everything okay?”
She scoffed. “Yeah. Of course.” Her smile was just a watt too forced.