Chapter 11
Ella's POV
His hand was warm.
I could feel the heat from his palm seeping through my skin, the rough calluses dragging against the back of my hand. I wasn't as cold anymore. Not like I'd been standing in front of that job board.
I didn't know why I'd reached for him.
Back in the hallway, hiding from Jack and Kelly's noise, I'd thought about it for a long time. All afternoon, really. I didn't mind Cade — that realization came sudden but clear.
Maybe I just wanted some security. Maybe I just wanted warmth. Like this. Someone holding my hand as we walked down dim streets.
I didn't let myself think past that. Those thoughts were too complicated. I wasn't ready.
What came to mind instead was the listing I'd copied down from the board — weekend assistant at a corner flower shop, twelve dollars an hour. I had to try. Get a job. At least prove I could earn money, that I wasn't dead weight.
"Here." Cade stopped in front of a small grocery store, let go of my hand, and pushed the door open.
I followed him inside. The store was tiny, harsh fluorescent lights overhead, shelves crammed tight with goods. The air smelled like disinfectant and cardboard. I'd never been in a place like this.
Cade grabbed a basket and headed straight for the food section. I trailed behind, watching him pick out bread, eggs, milk with quick, practiced movements, like he already knew exactly what he needed.
"What do you want?" He glanced back at me.
I hesitated. "I... whatever."
He stared at me for a few seconds, then held the basket out. "Pick something yourself."
I took it, fingers tightening around the handle without thinking. There was too much on the shelves. I didn't know what to choose. At home, the kitchen staff had handled everything. I'd never had to think about any of this.
I walked slowly down the aisles, finally stopping at the produce section. I picked up two tomatoes and a head of lettuce. Then the spice aisle — I stood there staring at the rows of bottles and jars for a long time before settling on salt and black pepper.
Cade stood nearby. Didn't say anything. Didn't rush me.
At the register, my palms were sweating. The cashier scanned everything and the screen flashed: thirty-four sixty.
I pulled out the bills Cade had left me this morning, carefully counted out forty, and handed it over. The cashier gave me back five forty. I clutched the change in my palm and did the math in my head, tallying what I had left.
When we walked out, Cade took the grocery bag, and his other hand reached over and took mine again, easy as breathing.
My face heated up.
It felt strange. Like we were a couple. Or newlyweds. Walking home hand in hand after buying groceries. But we weren't. We were just two strangers forced together by circumstance.
Still. His hand really was warm.
When we got back to Ironside, the living room light was on, but Jack and Kelly's door was shut. I felt a small rush of relief.
Cade put the groceries in the fridge, moving quietly, like he was trying not to disturb the neighbors. I stood in the kitchen doorway, unsure what to do.
"Go wash up," he said without turning around.
I nodded and headed for the bathroom.
Under the hot water, I finally relaxed a little. Too much had happened today — cleaning the apartment, meeting Kelly, escaping to stand in front of that job board, then Cade showing up and walking me back through two blocks of dark streets, his hand in mine.
None of it felt real.
I turned off the water, wrapped myself in a towel, and suddenly realized I didn't have anything to sleep in.
I stood there for a few seconds, then cracked the door open and stuck my head out. "Cade?"
He was sitting on the couch. He looked up.
"I..." I bit my lip. "I don't have anything to wear."
He stood, went into the bedroom, pulled open a drawer and rummaged around, then came back and handed me a black T-shirt. "Wear this for now. We'll get you something tomorrow."
I took it and ducked back into the bathroom.
The shirt was huge. On me it hung like a dress, the hem falling to my knees.
I took a breath and pushed the door open.
Cade had already laid out a blanket and pillow on the floor. When he saw me, his eyes stayed on me for one second, then flicked away. His face, his ears — they were flushed.
"You take the bed," he said. "I'll sleep here."
"But—"
"No buts." He cut me off, voice calm. "Go to bed."
I climbed onto the mattress and pulled the blanket up. The sheets were clean, smelling faintly of detergent, with a trace of that machine oil and sweat scent that clung to Cade.
He turned off the overhead light, leaving only the small lamp by the window. In the dim glow, I could see his outline on the floor, back turned to me, perfectly still.
I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.
I couldn't.
In the dark, I could hear him breathing. Soft. Steady. Outside, the occasional roar of a motorcycle engine. Heavy metal music drifting from somewhere far off.
The air between us felt awkward.
Two strangers. One in a bed, one on the floor, less than a meter apart. I could feel his presence the way you feel the air in a room — undeniable, inescapable.
Then, from next door, came sounds.
Quiet at first, but sharp in the stillness. The creak of bedsprings. Muffled breathing. Kelly's low laugh.
My face went up in flames.
I yanked the blanket over my head, trying to block it out. It didn't work. The sounds bled through the wall, through the fabric, straight into my ears.
I heard Cade shift.
Then silence.
Long, heavy silence.
The sounds next door kept going. Cade and I both stayed frozen where we were. Neither of us said a word.
I thought I might suffocate.
"Ella." Cade's voice cut through the dark.
I flinched, pulling the blanket down just enough to hear. "What?"
He didn't answer right away. I heard him sit up, the rustle of fabric against the floor.
"Should we..." He paused. "Get married?"
My brain went blank.
