Smolder

Kade’s POV

He didn’t know why he kept the picture.

Didn’t know why he still sat in the same damn coffee shop every morning like clockwork.

Didn’t know why he needed to see her face—even if it was beside his.

Kade downed the rest of the bourbon, jaw tight as he shoved the barn door open and stepped into the chilled night. His boots hit the gravel hard. He didn’t stop walking until he reached his truck.

Because in the morning, she’d be there.

She was always there.

——————-——————————————————————-

Dust hangs in the morning air, thick and lazy like the town itself—tired, fake-sweet, full of people who haven’t had a real thought in years.

Kade sits at his usual spot, battered jeans, work boots, and a black coffee steaming between hands that’ve broken horses and broken faces.

He’s not here for the caffeine.

He’s here for her.

Across the street, the bookstore door jingles.

And there she is.

Aria.

Long, unruly black curls spilling down her back like a wild river he’ll never tame.

Bronze skin glowing under the pale-ass sun, light brown eyes flashing like molten gold even when she’s fucking tired, even when she’s hurting.

Curves that make him forget how to breathe—full hips, soft waist, strong thighs, legs that go on for miles.

Baby-faced with siren eyes, a contradiction that’s goddamn lethal.

Kade’s hand tightens around his coffee cup until it cracks.

He watches her try to smile as Mason tugs her close like she’s his possession, and Kade feels that familiar burn start low and savage in his gut.

He stays put.

For now.

Waiting.

Watching.

Hating himself almost as much as he fucking loves her.

Aria’s POV

Aria feels it the second she steps onto the sidewalk—the searing, heavy pull of Kade’s gaze from across the street like an iron hook in her skin.

Her spine stiffens instinctively, jaw clenching tight.

Fuck him.

Fuck him for always looking at her like that.

Like she’s some problem he can’t solve.

Like she’s some goddamn nuisance he has to grit his teeth through.

Like he hates her fucking guts.

She doesn’t need his pity.

She doesn’t need his judgment.

She sure as hell doesn’t need his eyes on her.

Without thinking, she cuts a glare across the street.

Straight at him.

Straight into those wolfish dark eyes shadowed under the bill of his cap.

Arrogant.

Brooding.

Beautiful bastard.

Kade doesn’t flinch.

He doesn’t look away.

He just lifts his coffee to his mouth, slow and deliberate, those rough, tanned fingers flexing around the cup like he’s squeezing the life out of it.

Like he’s thinking about squeezing something else.

Aria’s cheeks flame hot.

Rage and something far more dangerous tightening low in her stomach.

God, I hate him.

I hate him so much.

Beside her, Mason yanks the door of the truck open, barking something about wasting time.

Aria moves stiffly, jaw locked, pulse hammering.

She slides into the truck, crossing her arms tight over her chest, forcing herself not to look back at the man sitting across the street.

The man who hadn’t said one kind word to her in years.

The man who used to carry her on his back when her legs got tired.

The man who used to promise he’d never let anything hurt her.

Liar.

She slams the door harder than necessary.

The engine roars to life.

The bookstore disappears behind her.

And still… still… she feels him.

Watching.

Waiting.

Judging.

Fuck him.

Fuck him and his stupid perfect face and his stupid perfect arms and his stupid perfect everything.

But somewhere deep inside her chest, in a place she doesn’t let herself go anymore…

It isn’t hate that’s burning.

It’s something way, way more dangerous.

Kade’s POV

The second that rusty-ass truck peels away, Kade’s on his feet.

Boots grinding against the sidewalk, strides long and pissed-off as he heads for his beat-up black pickup parked half a block down.

His coffee sits forgotten on the table, steam curling up like smoke from a fire already outta control.

Fuck it.

Fuck Mason.

Fuck this whole town.

And fuck the way Aria looked at him—like he was some goddamn monster lurking under her bed instead of the man who would kill for her if she just asked.

He yanks open the door, muscles bunching tight, the cab of the truck slamming shut like a gunshot behind him.

The engine snarls to life.

But he doesn’t drive away.

He sits there.

Grinding his teeth.

Hands strangling the steering wheel.

One of these days, he thinks darkly, she’s gonna look at me the way she used to.

And when she does… I’m not gonna let her go again.

Aria’s POV

The apartment smells like paint and sadness.

Aria sets the last battered box down in the living room with a heavy thud, kicking the door shut behind her.

Her own place.

Her own freedom.

She should feel happy, right?

Right?

She presses her back against the door and drags in a shaky breath.

The walls are bare.

The carpet’s cheap.

The window rattles every time the shitty AC kicks on.

But it’s hers.

At least… it’s supposed to be.

Aria wipes a hand across her sweaty forehead, cursing softly under her breath.

Her hair’s frizzy as hell, sticking to her cheeks.

Her jeans are smeared with dust.

She looks like a goddamn mess.

Feels even worse.

She moves stiffly to the nearest box—labeled “Bedroom” in her rushed, looping scrawl—and rips the tape off with a savage tug.

Books spill out.

Dog-eared romances, worn covers she’s read a hundred times when the world got too ugly to face.

She stacks them carefully by the bed—a mattress on the floor for now—and digs deeper.

Her hand brushes something smooth.

Plastic.

A frame.

Her heart stops.

She pulls it free.

A photo.

Old.

Faded at the edges.

The three of them: her, her brother… and Kade.

Kade with his arm slung lazily around her shoulders, his face younger, lighter, free, that rare, dangerous smile pulling at his mouth.

She stares at the picture, the ache swelling so big inside her chest she can barely breathe.

She thinks about the boy who used to call her “sunshine.”

The boy who used to protect her.

The boy who disappeared the second life got too hard.

The boy who now watches her with eyes full of hate.

Her fingers tighten around the frame until her knuckles ache.

She sits down hard on the bare mattress, the box at her feet forgotten.

The frame feels heavy in her hands—heavier than a photo should ever feel.

She stares at it.

At that boyish grin Kade used to wear like armor.

At the way he held her like he belonged there.

At the part of herself she’d buried so deep it barely even had a name anymore.

Her throat burns.

Her eyes sting.

No.

Not tonight. Not ever again.

Aria shoves up to her feet, the mattress groaning under the sudden weight shift.

She marches across the tiny room, yanks the closet door open so hard it bounces against the wall.

With a savage, graceless move, she crams the photo deep into a dark corner behind a stack of unpacked shoes and slams the door shut like she can lock the memory away with it.

Her chest rises and falls like she just ran a marathon.

But the ache’s still there.

Heavy.

Waiting.

I don’t need him.

I don’t need anybody.

The lie tastes like ash in her mouth.