Pain lanced through her blood until she was consumed by it. Her heart. Her head. Her soul. Curling into a ball, she sobbed into her pillow. She cried for herself. She cried for Caden. She cried for what they’d been—and everything they could’ve been still.
And then she thought of the baby—and of the fact that Caden didn’t even know it existed—and she cried for the little life they’d made, too.
What was she going to do?
What were they going to do? Her and the baby.
She didn’t know. Not yet. But she was going to have to figure it out. She was going to have to be strong for her son or daughter. And for herself.
And she would. But today she was going to let herself grieve. Because it wasn’t every day that she lost the love of her life.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
All weekend, every time Caden woke up, he played Makenna’s voicemail.
Caden, please talk to me. What’s going on? I don’t understand. I’m here for you. Please just let me in. Whatever it is, we can fix it. Pause. I love you.
He dragged the little arrow backward with his thumb. I love you.
And again. I love you.
And again. I love you.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Caden couldn’t do anything but sleep. Even though nightmares tormented him. Even though his muscles ached from lack of use. Even though life passed him by.
Although that hardly seemed to matter. Ghosts weren’t alive anyway.
Every so often, he got up long enough to take a piss, choke down his meds, and stare aimlessly into his refrigerator. Sometimes he ate. Sometimes he watched television.
But then his thoughts and his fears and his failures became too painful to endure.
So he went back to bed.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The banging wouldn’t fucking stop.
At first Caden thought it was his head, which would’ve been par for the goddamned course, but then he heard someone shouting his name. Over and over and fucking over.
Dragging himself from bed was an effort he barely had the energy to make. He shuffled out of his room and down the steps, his legs feeling weak, his muscles aching from disuse.
He looked through the spyhole. “Fuck,” he bit out.
“I’m not leaving until you open this door,” his captain yelled. “I’ll break it down if I have to.”
Pound, pound, pound.
Caden knew Joe Flaherty enough to know he was good to his word. And that he’d broken down more than one door in his career as a firefighter.
Kicking aside the big pile of mail that had collected on the floor under the mail slot, Caden unlocked and opened the door, just a little. “Captain. What can I do for you?”
“Let me the hell in,” Joe said, pushing the door open further and stepping in to Caden’s living room. “Jesus fucking Christ, Grayson.” The older man stared at him, his expression shocked.
Caden looked down at himself, at his bare chest and stomach and the dark gray sweatpants hanging loosely on his hips. “What?”
Joe’s eyes widened. “What? What? Are you telling me you don’t know you’re a goddamned skeleton?” He raked his hand through his graying hair. “I called. Over and over. But I knew I should’ve come sooner.”
Confused, Caden shook his head. “I don’t…I’m sorry…what—”
“Do you have any idea what day it is?” Joe asked, hands planted on his hips.
Caden thought about it. And thought some more. He tried to remember the last time he knew what day it was. He’d left Makenna’s on a Friday. And then slept for days. He’d tried to get up for an appointment with his therapist, but hadn’t been up to it. That had been on a…Thursday? And he’d been up some other times for a bite to eat or to stare mindlessly at the television. But…uh, no. He had no idea. Rubbing his hand over his scar, he shrugged.
Joe turned on the lamp beside the couch and sat heavily. “Sit down, Caden.”
Frowning, Caden shuffled to the couch. Sat. Braced his elbows on his knees. God, his head was heavy.
“What’s going on?” Joe asked, his face a mask of concern.
Caden shook his head. “Nothing.”
The other man’s expression slid into a scowl. “Do I need to take you to the emergency room? Because I will haul your ass out of here in a heartbeat—”
“What? No.” Caden scrubbed his hands over his face. “I know I’m off right now, but I’m…I’ll…” He shrugged again, not knowing what to say. He’d walked out on Makenna mid-spiral and hadn’t been able to do anything but hold on until he hit bottom. Was he there yet? Hell if he knew. Although he could hardly imagine feeling much worse than he did just then. Physically, emotionally, mentally.
Everything fucking hurt, like he was agony personified.
“You’re off? You’re not off, Caden. You’re clinically depressed, if I had to guess. And looking at you, I really don’t need to do that. What have you lost? Twenty pounds? Thirty? Jesus. When was the last time you ate?”
“I…I don’t…I can’t keep anything down.” Caden dropped his gaze to the floor. “But I’m not hungry anyway.”