Underneath the Sycamore Tree(56)

Kaiden’s arm wraps around my stomach, and his breath tickles the back of my head. “Are you feeling any better?”

I wiggle into his hold, resting my back against his front like usual. “A little. I’ve just been getting headaches, that’s all.”

He makes a disbelieving sound.

We’re quiet for a while. “Kaiden?”

“Hmm?”

I let out a tiny breath. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

His hold tightens. “You didn’t.”

Rolling my eyes, I say, “It’s okay to be worried, you know. I won’t tell anyone. It can be our little secret.”

I yelp quietly when he yanks me until I’m on my back and he’s hovering over me. “I can think of other secrets to keep between us that are a lot more fun.”

Biting my bottom lip, my hands go to his sides and hold onto his loose shirt. “I doubt you want anything right now. I got sick today, remember? Not very attractive.”

He lowers his bottom half onto me, his erection disproving my words. “Trust me, Mouse. I want you.”

I swallow. He smirks.

“What if I didn’t brush my teeth?”

“I can smell the mint toothpaste.”

He leans down slowly.

“What if I tell you no?”

“Then I’ll stop.”

His lips are so close to mine.

Our breaths mingle. “What if I told you that I’m sick?”

“Headaches, right?”

No. Yes…

Gripping his shirt, I meet his lips halfway in a soft touch. He doesn’t push or act as animalistic as we did before. Our lips graze each other’s a few times before he presses down so his hardness is settled between my legs.

I wince when one of his hands grips my hip, but the pressure of him squeezing it makes me cry out. “Wait. Stop.”

Pushing up on his arms, he rolls off me and studies my face. “Em?”

I shake my head, feeling my whole face heat with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I just…”

He lies down, opening his arm up for me to cuddle in like he doesn’t mind me telling him to stop. He told me he would, and I have no reason to think he’d go against his word when he’s been uncharacteristically nice to me.

Well, for the most part.

“My sister died of an incurable autoimmune disease,” I whisper against his chest. Closing my eyes, I picture Logan. “She never showed it, but I know she was in a lot of pain, especially the months leading up to her death.”

His hand rubs my upper arm. “Is that like a twin thing? You sensed her pain?”

It’s hard to breathe suddenly. “No.”

He keeps rubbing my arm.

“I have the same disease, Kaiden.”

His palm freezes.





Chapter Twenty-Eight





I’m not sure what to expect, but it’s not this.

Kaiden gets off my bed like it’s on fire, and I worry that he’s one of the many uneducated people who think he’ll somehow catch my disease like it’s contagious. Except it’s not concern or disgust on his face, it’s something far darker. It’s a mixture of anger and betrayal and a third emotion I’m not sure should be mixed with the others.

Slowly sitting up, I wince when the loud sound of my hip and elbow popping echoes in the silence between us. His eyes go to the sound, then to my face, before he studies the rest of me.

“Kaiden—”

“Don’t.” His voice is too sharp to disobey.

Zipping my lips, I watch as he searches for something across my features. His gaze dips downward, sliding over my body. There are advanced cases of some diseases that show just how much they impact people externally, but most times it’s an invisible internal battle.

People think sickness has a face.

They think disease is an ugly word.

I used to be embarrassed by it—maybe I still am. Nobody in their right mind thinks disease is a pretty thing. Most people associate it with things that could be controlled, as if it’s my fault I’m sick.

I can walk, talk, and go to school.

I must be fine.

“You’re not going to find anything,” I finally say, brushing my sweaty palms down my thighs.

He finally meets my gaze again.

Then he swears. Loudly.

Throwing the door open to my room, it slams against the wall and leaves a hole where the knob strikes. Cringing, I scurry off the bed and follow him into the hall.

“Kaiden, come on. It’s—”

He stops halfway down the stairs. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

There’s no way our parents won’t hear this. Not only is he yelling, but it’s echoing around us as a reminder of what I knew would happen. They should have warned him before I even moved in.

I won’t let him blame me though. “When have you asked me?”

He scoffs, walking up three steps so we’re eye level. “Was I supposed to guess that you’re sick, Emery? That you’re dying or some shit? I’m not a goddamn mind reader.”

My jaw ticks. “I’m not dying. And you knew my sister passed away! Did you ever think to ask how? Did you ever stop sulking from your own pity party of one to consider anyone but yourself? No!”