Page 8 of What Maple Heard

“River is also fine.”

“Hey, Cade.”

I turned around.

River had materialized in the hallway. River, who thirty seconds ago had been so absorbed in his phone that a small earthquake could have relocated our living room furniture without him noticing, had physically walked to the front door to say hello to Cade Sonnenberg.

What the hell?

“Hey, River. How’re you doing?” Cade gave him a small smile and then looked at me right away with the same “concerned” look on his face.

“We’re playing finals this weekend. Wanna come?” River asked with a proud smile.

“Wow, that’s great bud. Congratulations. Maybe I’d be there. I don’t know yet.” Cade said, and looked back at me, the same stern expression right there on his face.

After this conversation, you’ll know for sure.

“River.” My voice came out clenched from between my teeth. “Go to your room please.”

River looked at me. “I haven’t finished my cereal.”

I smiled. It was the kind of smile that took genuine effort to maintain. “Then finish your cereal. And go to your room.”

“Please,” I added. As an afterthought. A very tightly managed afterthought.

“Okay, ma’am,” he said. He rolled his eyes, smiled at Cade — a full, real smile, the one I had to work for — and said “See you around” and wandered back to the dining table with unbothered energy.

I turned back to Cade. He was already looking at me with that very fake worried look still sitting on his face. I stepped outside, almost pushing him off my “welcome to our home” mat. My body language apparently communicated something very clearly because Cade took two automatic steps back to give me room to stand without us being in each other’s faces, and I pulled the door shut behind me.

The evening air hit me immediately. Chestnut Ridge in October was chilly at the right places. It was cold, the kind of sharp cold that had teeth in it, and I was standing on my porch in my dance bralette and tights because I had come straight from the studio and hadn’t changed, and I wasn’t going to go back inside to get a sweater because I wanted this man off my porch immediately.

He reached for his jacket.

“Don’t,” I said.

“Maple, please wear my ja—“

“I don’t want it.”

“You’ll catch a cold.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

He looked at me. I looked somewhere to the left of his face, which was the maximum distance I could manage while still technically facing him.

“What do you want, Cade?”

Something shifted in his expression. The concern I had just witnessed morphed with an expression that looked like irritation. “What do I want? Maple, you’ve been ignoring me for an entire week. Reading every message and ignoring me. Not answering my calls. I have been out of my mind with worry. I thought something happened to you or River. If something happened to you, I’d I’d…”

“You would what? Would have lost a great fuck.?”

Cade went completely still. He looked confused and irritated at the same time.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just leave.”

The concern was completely gone from this face now. He was just angry, which was fine, anger I could work with. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m standing here telling you I’ve been sick with worry about you and you’re making some lame digs at me?” He shook his head. “Why did you leave the party that night? You didn’t even text me—“