This was the wrong thing to say.
I knew it because, very suddenly, I was staring at a Caden Hightower I’d never seen before. One that did not chuckle low in his throat, one whose eyes did not dance with humor. The jovial surface I’d become accustomed to stripped away and, beneath it, there was a different man entirely. One that radiated an intimidating amount of intensity, enough to rival the Gravewatch boys. One that, if I was being honest, scared me far more than the prospect of a massive auto-repair bill.
And, in that moment, I couldn’t help it.
I reacted.
My flinch was blatant, lashing through me in an involuntary reflex. Too many times in the past, men had put their hands on me with the intent to do violence. Too many times in the past, I’d seen the switch flip from reassurance to rage. I jerked against Cade’s grip, unable to suppress the panic that moved through my gut, that made my breath catch.
To his credit, his hands dropped away instantly. He stepped back two paces out of my space, like I’d doused him with a vat of cold water. His angry expression shuttered in the space between two heartbeats.
I did my best to clear my own face of any lingering fear, but it was too late. Far, far too late. He’d seen my reaction; he knew what it meant. And though his temper was locked down through what seemed to be sheer force of will, I could still see the rage brimming in his eyes. Only this time, it wasn’t directed at me.
It was on my behalf.
And that was its own brand of terrifying, for a whole other brand of reasons.
“Someone put his hands on you?” he asked with deceptive softness. His voice was eerily calm, but his eyes — god, they were haunted. “Someone hurt you?”
I shifted my weight from foot to foot, nervously chewing my bottom lip. I didn’t know what to say. I’d tried lying to him already, several times, and each time he’d seen straight through it. Still, I wanted to lie. Ibadlywanted to lie, because I had a feeling he would not be best pleased to learn that yes, someone had put his hands on me, and yes, someone had hurt me. More than one someone, on more than one occasion.
My teeth released my lip. “Cade?—”
“Answer me, Imogen.”
I looked at him across the buffer of distance he’d created between us, feeling the oddest urge to close it. Despite my attempts to sound steady, there was a faint tremor in my voice. “Please... I don’t want to talk about this.”
His eyes pressed closed and his jaw clenched tight. “Someone hurt you,” he said again — this time not a question. “Who?”
“Cade—”
“You tell me who or I take the time to find out who. Either way, he’s got a lesson coming. One I plan to deliver personally.”
I shivered again. He was not fucking around, I could see that plain as day. I watched the rhythmic tick of his cheek muscle. He looked like he was struggling to get a lock on his rage.
“You’re scaring me,” I admitted after a long moment, my voice a whisper.
His body stilled. He took a deep breath, his whole frame broadening with the force of it. His eyes pressed closed for a beat. When they opened again, they were the eyes I’d come to know. Not haunted. Not angry. Clear and blue as an October sky.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he said softly.
Not soft like before — soft in a new way I’d never heard from him. A way that made a lump form in my throat.
“I’d never hurt you,” he went on, and it sounded like a vow. “Swear to whatever god is up there, I’d never, ever hurt you. You may not trust me yet, but you can trust me on that.”
I nodded, unable to speak without it coming out in an emotional croak.
After another long beat of silence, he canted his head toward the garage. “Come on. Puck’s waiting in the back. We’ll get you sorted out, then I’ll get you back to The Sea Witch.”
My throat felt oddly thick. I still couldn’t speak, so I just nodded again. He took another deep breath, then started walking. For the first time since we’d crossed paths, he did not fall into step beside me, matching his long legs to mine. His hand did not find the small of my back to steer me gently through the open bay doors. He kept a careful distance as we moved inside, then gave me even more of it as I stood beside my car, listening to Puck rattle off the myriad issues that required fixing in order to get me back on the road.
Back on my tightrope.
Out of Salem.
Out of Cade’s life.
I tried to listen to Puck, but my attention kept drifting from the man talking to me to the one leaning in silence against the wall. I couldn’t forget the sharp look on his face when he’d seen my flinch, the haunted look in his eyes when he’d gotten the tiniest glimpse into my dark past. And I couldn’t help wondering what his reaction would be if he followed through on his promise to dig deeper.