Chapter 15

FIFTEEN

Auden

The afternoon sun filters through the large windows of the café, casting a warm glow on the small table where Wade and I sit. Normally, I love my quiet lunches with Wade, but today feels different.

There's a lingering tension in the air, a cloud hanging over us that I can't quite shake. It started as soon as we sat down, a subtle shift in Wade's mood that I've been trying to ignore, hoping it's just my imagination. Or maybe it's me projecting that because I know that I need to talk to him about us and how I feel.

I've been trying to gauge his mood since we sat down, but it's like there's a brick wall around him. I watch him now, picking at his sandwich without much enthusiasm, and I can't help but feel like something is off.

"Everything okay?" I ask, trying to keep my tone light as I reach across the table to touch his hand. His skin is warm beneath my fingers, but he doesn't look up, just nods slightly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he says, but there's a tightness in his voice that tells me he's anything but.

He's worried about something. I just don't know what.

I open my mouth to press him further, but before I can say anything, the door to the café swings open, and a group of people walk in. I glance up, my gaze sweeping over them briefly, and my heart sinks as I recognize one of the faces in the crowd.

Mitch Wallace.

Of all the people to run into today, it had to be him. Mitch was the quintessential high school bully, the guy who made it his mission to make everyone else's life miserable, especially if they didn't fit into his narrow view of what was "cool." And Wade… Wade had been one of his favorite targets.

Surely, he's not still like that, right? I mean, I'm sure that they've both moved on.

I stiffen in my seat, hoping that Mitch won't notice us, that he'll just grab his coffee or whatever and leave, but of course, that's too much to ask for. His eyes land on us, and a slow, cruel smile spreads across his face as he makes a beeline for our table.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Wade Collins," Mitch sneers as he stops beside our table, his voice dripping with mockery. "Didn't expect to see you out in public, man. Thought you'd be hiding out in some hole like you used to in high school."

Wade doesn't respond; he just stares down at his plate, his shoulders tense. I feel a surge of anger rise within me, anger at Mitch for being such a jerk, and anger at myself for not being able to protect Wade from this.

"Back off, Mitch," I snap, glaring up at him. "We're just trying to have lunch. You can take your nasty attitude somewhere else."

Mitch raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised by my outburst. "Wow, didn't know you were into charity cases, Auden," he says with a smirk. "But hey, I guess someone's got to take pity on the guy."

My blood boils at his words, and I stand up, not caring that we're making a scene. "You're pathetic, you know that? High school was years ago, Mitch. Grow up and stop being such a bully."

Mitch's smirk falters, just for a second, and I can see the flash of embarrassment in his eyes, but then he shrugs, clearly deciding that I'm not worth the effort.

"Whatever. Enjoy your lunch," he says, his tone dismissive as he turns and walks away, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

I sit back down, my heart pounding in my chest, the adrenaline still coursing through me. I glance at Wade, hoping to see some sign that my words made a difference, that he's not letting Mitch's cruelty get to him, but Wade's face is impassive, his expression closed off in a way that I haven't seen in a long time. Not since high school.

Shit.

"Wade…" I begin, but he shakes his head, cutting me off.

"We should go," he says quietly, not meeting my eyes.

I want to push, to make him talk to me, but I know Wade well enough to understand when he needs space. So I nod, trying to ignore the knot of worry that's starting to form in the pit of my stomach.

We clear the table and head out to his truck in silence, the easy conversation we usually share replaced by a heavy, uncomfortable quiet. I hate it. I hate that Mitch still has this power over Wade, that even after all these years, he can still make him feel small.

We drive back to work together in silence, and by the time we park outside, my lunch is in a tight ball in my stomach.

"I've got some things I need to take care of," he says, his voice flat.

"Right… well, I'll see you later?" I ask, hating how small and timid my voice sounds.

"Yeah," he says, forcing a smile.

I want to say something, to hug him, and tell him that Mitch's words don't matter, that he's so much more than what that jerk thinks, but Wade just stares forward, his face stoic.

I climb out of the truck and close the door. He pulls away, and I watch him go, my heart sinking with every foot that he puts between us.

I can't shake the feeling that something's wrong, that this isn't just about Mitch and his stupid comments, but what can I do?

The irony isn't lost on me. I spent days trying to avoid Wade and my feelings for him, and now all I want to do is hold him close and confess that I love him.

With a heavy sigh, I turn and head back to the building site. I've got a meeting with the owners this afternoon, and I need to be on my game, but as I make my way through the now familiar building, my thoughts keep drifting back to Wade and the look on his face when Mitch walked away.

When the Montgomery's walk in, I manage to push thoughts of Wade aside and stay professional. It's all the proof that I needed that I can be successful at my job and still be with Wade. I hate that I fought my feelings for so long. I hate that I tried to put so much distance between us.

The meeting with the owners goes well, better than I expected, actually. They love the changes I've made to the design, and we go over the final details to make sure everything is perfect. It should be a moment of triumph for me, a chance to celebrate the culmination of weeks of hard work.

But all I can think about is Wade.

By the time I leave the site, the sun is beginning to set, casting a warm, golden light over the town. I pull out my phone and send Wade a quick text, asking if he wants to grab dinner. When I don't get a response right away, I tell myself he's just busy, and that he'll call me back as soon as he can, but as the minutes tick by with no word from him, that knot of worry in my stomach tightens.

I try to focus on something else, anything else, but it's no use. My mind keeps replaying the events of the afternoon, the way Wade shut down after Mitch's cruel words. I want to be there for him, to help him through whatever he's dealing with, but he's not letting me in. And that scares me more than I want to admit.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I decide to text Lena and Arlowe, asking if they want to hang out. Maybe being around my friends will help take my mind off things. They both respond almost immediately, agreeing to meet up at Lena's place.

When I arrive, the lights are already on, and I can hear music playing from inside. I knock once before letting myself in, greeted by the familiar warmth of Lena's cozy living room. Lena and Arlowe are sitting on the couch, a bottle of wine already open on the coffee table.

"Hey, you," Lena says with a smile as she gets up to hug me. "You look like you could use a drink."

I laugh, but it's forced. "You have no idea."

Arlowe pours me a glass of wine, her eyes sharp with concern. "What's going on? You look stressed."

I hesitate, not sure how much I want to share, but this is Lena and Arlowe. They've been with me through everything. If there's anyone I can talk to about this, it's them.

"It's Wade," I admit, sinking into the couch beside them. "We were having lunch today, and this guy from high school showed up. He said some really nasty things, and I could tell it got to Wade. He's been quiet ever since, and now he's not answering my calls or texts."

Lena frowns, pouring more wine into my glass. "That's not like him."

"I know," I say, taking a sip and feeling the warmth of the wine spread through me. "And I don't know what to do. I hate seeing him like this, but he won't talk to me."

Arlowe leans back, crossing her legs under her. "Maybe he just needs some time to process. It sounds like that guy really messed with his head. Give him a little space, and he'll come around."

"Yeah, but what if he doesn't?" I ask, the words spilling out before I can stop them. "What if this is the beginning of the end, and I'm just sitting here, waiting for it to happen?"

Lena shakes her head, her expression firm. "Don't think like that. Wade cares about you. Anyone can see that. He just… he's dealing with something, and it might take him a little while to figure out how to talk about it. But he will. You just have to be patient."

I nod, trying to take comfort in her words, but it's hard. The fear that I'm losing him, that this relationship is slipping through my fingers, is like a weight pressing down on my chest. I want to believe that everything will be okay, but the longer he stays silent, the more that doubt creeps in.

"Did you tell him how you felt?" Lena asks, and I shake my head.

I take a big drink of my wine and wonder if things would be different if I had. Maybe he would know how I felt, and we would be together right now. Maybe he would have been able to brush off Mitch's cruel words because he would know that no one really saw him like that. He would know that he was good and that he belonged, and that I loved him.

We spend the rest of the evening talking about anything but Wade—work, the latest gossip around town, and plans for the weekend. It's a distraction, and for a little while, it works, but as the night goes on, I can't help but keep checking my phone, hoping for some sign that he's okay, that he's thinking about me.

But there's nothing.

By the time I get home, it's late, and the house is dark and quiet. I change into my pajamas and settle into bed, but sleep is the furthest thing from my mind. Instead, I find myself getting up and walking over to the window, pulling the curtain aside to look out at Wade's house next door.

It's dark, just like mine, and that only makes the worry gnaw at me even more. I stand there for what feels like hours, staring at the silent house, willing him to call me, to let me know that everything is okay. But the phone never rings.

Finally, I give up, crawling back into bed and pulling the covers up to my chin. I close my eyes, trying to shut out the anxiety that's been building inside me all day, but it's no use. My mind keeps replaying every moment of our lunch, every word that was said, every silence that followed.

And as the darkness of the night presses in around me, I can't help but wonder if this is the beginning of the end. If the man I've fallen in love with is slipping away, and there's nothing I can do to stop it.