Page 30 of Kade
“I always wished I had siblings,” I say. “What was it like, all of you living together?”
“It was a fucking madhouse.” His grin widens. “We were complete savages most of the time. There was a fight almost daily when we lived here.”
“You guys seriously all lived in this place? How? How on earth does that work?”
“Not very well. It was wall-to-wall sleeping bags in here. We were supposed to age out of the group home, but none of us stayed that long before getting the fuck out. We’d land here and Ransom just kept buying sleeping bags.”
“No one came looking for you?”
He scoffs and shakes his head. “They didn’t give a shit we weren’t there. As long as we didn’t get arrested, we could stay off the children’s services radar. It helped that we were all big.”
“All big? Like you and Micah? You know you guys are outside the curve, right?”
He smirks. “In every way.”
My face flushes, and I throw my wadded-up napkin at him. He laughs as it bounces off his chest.
“Most of us are big, yeah. I think that’s how Ransom picked us at first. He was building a gang, and having big guys is a fucking requirement. Jonas and Zach are a bit smaller, but they had other things going for them.”
“He sounds very calculated,” I say, wondering why he would go to all that trouble. You think it would have been easier for him to stay on his own, only worrying about himself. But clearly, his gamble paid off.
“He was. He is. I can’t say that I understand fully why he did it either. Or that he knew we’d be as successful as we are. But I’m pretty fucking grateful that he picked me.”
“You love him a lot,” I say. He leans forward and crosses his arms on the table, his eyes studying the wall next to the fridge. I noticed it when I moved in. How could I not? I mean, most apartments don’t have a graffiti wall. I’d studied it a bit and found all the names hidden within the stylized word BRASH.
“Love? Yeah. But it’s more than that. I owe him my life. I respect the hell out of him, and I would walk through fucking fire for him.”
I can see all of that on his face. He’s been so removed the last few weeks, so I soak in the play of emotions on his face. He’s letting me see the way he feels about his brothers. He is capable of such deep emotion. Such deep love. The men that inspired that must be pretty amazing.
I’ve met families that ignored each other. That put each other down. They tarnish the word family. But Kade and his brothers? They sound like everything a family should be. Who gives a damn if they’re not blood?
“What’s wrong?” His question pulls me out of my thoughts.
“I’m jealous of you.” I wince as I say it, but there it is. Kade scowls and sits back in his chair.
“Jealous?” His laugh is harsh. “Why the fuck would you ever feel jealous of me?”
“Seriously?” Does he really not see it? His eyes narrow, and he stares at me. “Kade. When you met me, I was sleeping in my car. I had a cellphone full of acquaintances. Nobody I know who would drop everything and come and help me. Nobody.” I pause, letting that sink in. “If something bad had happened to me, the hospital wouldn’t have had anyone to call. You,” I say, pointing right at his oblivious face, “would have a waiting room full of men who love you. You would never be alone. That’s a pretty special thing.” He takes a deep breath and crosses his arms loosely over his chest.
“I hadn’t really thought of it that way,” he says, looking embarrassed.
“Well, you should. You have something not everybody does. I get you had a hard childhood, but look what you have now,” I say, gesturing to the graffiti wall. His eyes warm as they travel over the wall.
“You’re right,” he says quietly.
“I know. I always am. It’s a curse,” I tease, wanting to break the tension. Kade laughs but leans forward again, locking his intense eyes on me.
“Becca,” he says, his voice more serious than I’ve ever heard it. “It’s me. You call me. Do it right now.” I raise my eyebrows in confusion. “Get your phone out and set me as your emergency contact.”
I study his face, looking for…I don’t know what. All I see is certainty. I rise slowly, getting my phone off the counter and sitting back down. I’m conscious of his intense gaze on me. I avoid his eyes as I open up his contact. My finger hovers over theAdd to Emergency Contactfield. I look up at him, torn.
“Do it, Becca. Just the fucking idea of you being hurt and me not knowing about it is making me insane. I need this. Please,” he pleads.
Somehow, this feels like jumping off a cliff.
“I…I don’t know.”
He frowns, his arms tensing. “What is there to think about?” I could tread lightly here. Soften my words, pretty them up.
