Homewrecker Page 9

  But the line that keeps popping out at me is the one that states there are over twenty-members of this ring.

  I swallow hard and shake my head. “It also means I don’t know who the dad is.” I hand Charleigh her phone back, as my heart begins to race. “I don’t remember that night, Char. I’d always just assumed…” My stomach starts to churn. “I’m going to be sick.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Cade

  “You can’t leave!” Amanda says as she races after me. “We’re supposed to block scene five. Cade! You have Friday off; you cannot leave.”

  I’m barely listening to her as I pull open the door to my on-set trailer.

  I don’t care if we have a three-day weekend. Hell, I wouldn’t care if we had a four-day weekend.

  I’m going to Tahoe tonight.

  I made a mistake in not calling Dylan sooner. My flight Sunday had a mechanical delay, and I didn’t get into Vancouver until close to four in the morning—two hours before I was due on set. Monday night I didn’t even make it back to the hotel, crashing in my trailer. Tuesday was another long day and as I was dialing Dylan’s number, I was pulled into a media engagement.

  Then this morning, not even an hour after starting to shoot, the director called a break. There was news that effected people on crew.

  After finding out just what the news was, the only thing I wanted, needed, was to get to Dylan.

  “I’m leaving,” I tell Amanda as I grab my backpack and wallet, passing her on my way back out of the trailer.

  “You’re going to regret this!” she yells after me. I’m making good time with my strides, already near the end of the lot and to my rental car.

  No.

  I regret not talking to Dylan.

  I regret not being there with her when she found all of this out.

  I will not regret being by her side, if she needs a friend.

  She has Charleigh.

  Yeah. And she’s going to have me, too.

  ***

  Of course, the best flight I can find involves a layover.

  Would it hurt so much to have a direct-to-Reno flight?

  Thankfully, the layover is a twenty-minute one, but I barely make my second flight. Soon, I’m on the ground at Reno and making my way to long-term parking.

  The following forty-minute drive drags on, and when I finally pull into the White’s drive, the sun is starting it’d descent in the sky. The house is completely lit up; lights on in many of the windows.

  I see that Charleigh’s BMW is sitting in the drive, but I can’t bring myself to care.

  I’m out of the truck and to the front door in seconds.

  The house may be bright, but Charleigh nor Dylan are anywhere to be found. My guess then, is they’re on the patio. It seems to be Dylan’s favorite spot.

  I drop my bag at the base of the stairs and move through the kitchen and out the sliding doors, where Charleigh and Dylan indeed are. Charleigh is jabbering on, an iPad in her lap, and Dylan is nodding but damn.

  She looks exhausted.

  Even in the darkening sky, I can see her eyes are heavy and they’re rocking some decent bags underneath.

  “Ladies,” I introduce my arrival.

  I may be listening to Charleigh, but my attention is one-hundred percent on Dylan, and when she startles I feel terrible. “Just me,” I say to that.

  “Cade?” Dylan is frowning at me, then she blinks a few times. “Why are you…?”

  Charleigh looks between the two of us, an amused smile on her face. “Well, well, well.” It’s soft enough that it’s nearly a whisper.

  “I didn’t… I couldn’t…” Once again, I’m screwing up my words. I settle with what I can manage. “Charleigh, Dylan’s dead on her feet. Let her go to bed.”

  “It’s only eight,” Charleigh says, as Dylan answers, “I’m fine.”

  I don’t want to be the overbearing asshole, and I struggle with the fact Dylan is clearly tired, even if she says she’s not.

  I worry she didn’t nap today and while, sure, I was only here the one afternoon, I got the feeling that a nap was something she did often in her current state.

  I worry that by running herself to the ground, she’s doing something to harm the baby. Can not listening to your body be dangerous for the baby?

  “Charleigh is showing me the things she’s put together for the nursery,” Dylan says, and she can deny it all she wants, but the girl is tired. Her words slur; not much, but enough for me to notice.

  Deciding I don’t have much say in what’s going on out here, I walk over to the third of four Adirondack chairs, the one closer to Dylan’s than to Charleigh’s.

  “I haven’t had much say, but…” Dylan throws a look at our friend, and there’s a smile on her face.

  “You’re the one who would rather be secluded in the woods,” Charleigh teases.

  “It’s nice out here,” Dylan answers on a sigh and I would bet money that she’d like to close her eyes. “But now that, you know, everything…maybe I’ll head back to my place this weekend.”

  I freeze at that.

  How would that have worked? Would she have told me? Or would I have ended up here, only to find the place deserted?

  “Where is that? Where do you live otherwise?” I make myself ask. I sure as hell hope that she lives somewhere in the Los Angeles area.

  “Currently, I’m near Thousand Oaks. My family is in Montana though.”

  My heart literally stops in my chest at what sounds like her thinking about moving back to her home state.

  “I’ve done the nursery in your apartment. You’re not leaving,” Charleigh says and while she says it jokingly, I can hear the fear there too.

  “I didn’t say—”

  “You eluded to it, though.” Charleigh shakes her head. “You can’t leave me, Dylan.”

  Dylan smiles, “I’m not leaving you. Yet.” She glances over at me, so quickly I would have missed it if I weren’t looking right at her.

  “So you say,” Charleigh says teasingly but with enough skepticism in her tone to say she’s afraid of Dylan leaving for good, too. “I’m going to head to bed, I guess. I have to leave before the sun comes up, unfortunately.” She groans then, shaking her head. “My father…”

  He likely scheduled another gig for her. He liked to keep her busy and out of trouble, not that she was a troublesome Hollywood kid. She and I did go through a phase in our early teens though, where we broke curfew.

  And maybe smoked a joint or two at a park.

  Nothing worth being labeled over, but enough for her to be placed on the “Hollywood Kids Gone Wrong” list a few times.

  “You two behave yourselves,” she finished, reaching out to rub Dylan’s shoulder and shooting me a death glare.

  Swear to God, that was a death glare.

  Dylan watched her walk into the house, and before I could apologize for my lack of communication this week, she’s pulling herself up from her chair. I take her in, and my second head appreciates the new view. Dylan is in her short-shorts and tight tank top, with her belly proudly on display. My cock wants to be proudly on display too, if the blood rushing there is any indication. “I’m tired after all,” she says. “I’m going to head to bed. Charleigh’s in the room you used. It was the only clean one.”

  “Can I talk to you?” I ask as I push myself to stand, ignoring the rush of emotions and the like.

  “You’re the one who said I was tired,” she challenges.

  Her defensive walls are back up, and I know only I am to blame.

  “I’m sorry—”

  “You don’t have anything to apologize for!” She gives me a fake smile and a half laugh. “You’re fine, Cade. I’m going to bed.”

  Dylan turns, and I step around the fire pit, reaching for her hand to stop her.

  I use that leverage to pull myself toward her, not caring that I’m about to go within her personal bubble.


  We breached bubbles over the weekend.

  I refuse to let her put her walls back up.

  Once my body is flush to hers, unintentionally bringing my growing cock to rest against her lower back, I switch hands so I’m holding one and place my other protectively over her stomach. I want the little guy to move, but he’s apparently resting.

  She drops her chin to her chest in a move I saw too often last Saturday, and I dip my own, bringing my mouth as close to her as I can, given our height difference.

  “I’m sorry, Dylan. I meant to call.” I hate that it sounds like I’m making excuses. “It was busy. But the moment I heard about Grant, the only place I wanted to be was here.”

  “We’re hardly more than friends,” she finally says, not moving. “You have nothing to apologize for, Cade.”

  I shouldn’t be crude. I shouldn’t be crude.

  But the words are out before I can stop them. “Does it feel like we’re hardly more than friends, Dylan?” I ask, pushing my lower half harder against her.

  Her body shivers against mine, and I decide to go all in. “I want you, Dylan. I want to get to know you. I want to be your friend, but I also want to be more than your friend. I want you to turn to me. I want to stand beside you. I want to be whatever you want me to be, when it comes to however this ends up with Grant. I want to prove to you that there are good guys. Let me be your good guy.”

  Dylan is still.

  Neither of us moves.

  But then her hand is on my wrist and she’s removing my hand from her stomach. “Good night, Cade.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dylan

  I toss and turn, unable to sleep, for two hours before I give up on finding sleep.

  I can’t stop thinking about Cade.

  About him showing up in the middle of the week.

  His words.

  The outline of his cock against my back…

  Yeah, that was the thought that had me most on edge.

  So on edge, that I was wet between my legs and wasn’t that a stupid thing to happen when you didn’t have a guy to help you with it.

  Cade would help you with it.

  Of that, I had no doubt.

  But I do doubt that I’m in the right mindset for a sexual relationship. It doesn’t matter that I’m comfortable with Cade—after so few moments, too.

  Men often wear different colors when trying to pursue a woman that they want but…

  But, in my bones, I feel like Cade is different.

  That he isn’t lying.

  That he means every word he says.

  It’s that feeling that has me talking myself up, gathering courage, to walk the second story, looking for Cade. When I don’t find him in any of the bedrooms, I quietly make my way downstairs, then down the second flight of stairs, heading toward the theater.

  The room is dark, but after standing in the doorway, allowing my eyes to adjust, I see his form in the middle of the pit.

  “Cade?” I whisper, but he doesn’t stir.

  Shoot.

  I debate leaving him but heck, I made it all the way down here…

  “Cade,” I call his name a little louder this time, and he rolls, a groan coming from him.

  Knowing I won’t be startling him, I walk inside quietly before carefully making my way across the padded pit. “It’s Dylan.” Duh. Of course, it’s Dylan.

  He grumbles, and I think that he’s probably still sleeping, but he holds an arm straight up in the air and mumbles, “C’mere.”

  My fight-or-flight kicks in, and I almost decide to leave but…

  No.

  I make my way toward him and kneel, before laying on my left side. Cade immediately wraps me in his arms, spooning me from behind.

  “I—”

  “Talk in the morning,” he mumbles against the back of my head.

  But I want to talk now.

  My head is racing.

  I have so much to say.

  I have…

  With just his arms around me, holding me to him, and the smell that is so very Cade, sleep claims me.

  ***

  Much like Sunday morning, I wake to Cade’s hand protectively over my rolling stomach. I wasn’t kidding when I said the baby was an early riser. His somersaults are usually the reason I wake up before an alarm clock.

  Unlike Sunday morning though, this time I’m not facing him; Cade still has me spooned to him and if I thought his pressing cock was impressive last night, it’s quite different this morning.

  He’s hard, and if anything, the feel of him has me recalling how uncomfortable I was in my own bed last night. I discreetly shift my hips and yep, still wet.

  “It’s amazing you sleep through this,” Cade murmurs behind me. “He’s been active for at least twenty minutes.”

  I imagine that if this pregnancy were different—hell, let’s just take this imagination thing all the way. I imagine that if I were in a different place; if I’d met Cade nine months ago; if this baby boy were Cade’s baby…

  I’d put my hand over his and bask in the feeling that my man was just as excited about the baby as I was.

  It didn’t matter that I was eighteen.

  That I really was not ready to be a mom.

  That I was terrified of it, actually.

  All that would matter was that my baby was loved.

  That I was loved.

  I let myself play with that thought a little while.

  And then I give in to my desires, and I put my hand on top of Cade’s.

  “It’s definitely interesting,” I manage to say.

  Cade widens his fingers and I allow myself to take the cue, wrapping my fingers between his. We lay there for a while, and the whole time I think…

  This can’t last.

  “Are you here until Sunday again?”

  I feel Cade shift behind me, but he doesn’t pull away. He presses a kiss to my shoulder and I have to scold myself for getting excited about it. “I am. I kind of left without permission, though, so I don’t know that I’ll make it back down next weekend.”

  “Were…” I take a breath. “Were you hoping come back down next weekend?”

  “And the next.” He kisses my shoulder again. “And then the next.” My neck. My breathing starts to speed up and it’s not anxiety doing it.

  Well, I’m anxious.

  But for completely different reasons.

  “And as long as you’d want me to.” He says the last next to my ear before…

  Licking my earlobe.

  If I wasn’t wet before, I certainly was now. Hell, I could feel my pussy pulsing in sheer want.

  I shift so I can roll to my back, looking up at Cade.

  Taking him in for the first time today.

  His hair is a mess.

  His cheeks and chin are shadowed.

  His eyes are heavy with sleep.

  And the way those eyes are looking down at me…

  It makes a girl hope.

  Makes a girl long.

  It’s too fast.

  Too soon.

  Too good to be true.

  But he’s already proved me wrong more than once.

  He’s proving to be the good guy he said he wanted to be.

  He wants to be my good guy.

  “Why are you here?” I ask quietly.

  Cade stares down at me before bringing his hand to my jaw, his thumb brushing just under my lip. “I told you last night. Let me be your guy.”

  “But why?”

  “I can’t explain what I feel when I’m around you, Dylan. It’s way too soon to say it’s love—”

  I scoff at that. Yeah. Way too soon. If I were to add up the hours I’ve spent with Cade, it wouldn’t even amount to two days.

  That was the definition of too soon.

  “…but when I’m not with you, I’m unsettled. Not even three days without you, and I just wanted to be back here. I
would have jumped set sooner or later, and the Grant fiasco was just a convenient reason for it to happen sooner.”

  At Grant’s name, I swallow hard. “Speaking of that…”

  Cade’s eyes are locked on mine, as he waits for me to continue. “B-because,” I stammer, then take another deep breath. “Because of everything that’s come to light, I’m afraid that the baby might not be Grant’s. I don’t…I don’t know who the father is.” That thought terrified me.

  What did Grant do?

  Drug me?

  Pass me off to whoever wanted to fuck me?

  Did they have rules at these parties? Obviously if there was a condom rule, it wasn’t followed. If there was one saving grace from everything, it was that my blood panel remained clean. God, I couldn’t even imagine. Pregnant with some sexually transmitted disease. That wouldn’t have been it.

  I couldn’t have—

  “Hey,” Cade says, squeezing my chin. “Come back.”

  I didn’t even realize my eyes had glazed over until I refocused on Cade.

  “If you think I judge you based on something you had zero control over, I need to prove to you I’m not that man. I don’t. I don’t judge you, I don’t think less than you. If anything, I think this is great news. You can go to the public with your story, Dylan. You can tell the world that they can go fuck themselves for being the bastards that they are, saying you were someone you weren’t.” His face is flushed, and I can’t help but feel endeared toward this man.

  He’s angry for me.

  Less than two days total or not, I could…

  Hell, I could fall in love with this man.

  And the thought doesn’t scare me. Not even a little bit.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cade

  I have the restraint of a saint.

  By Friday, I still haven’t pressed my lips to Dylan’s, although I have grown accustomed to the taste of her skin. I’ve kissed her shoulder, her neck, her cheek.

  And only in the morning.

  Only after waking up to her pressed in front of me.

  Last night, we slept in her bed instead of the theater, but it was completely PG.

  Well, PG but for the raging hard-on I had.

  That aside, everything between Dylan and I remained safe. Steady. Not toeing into an area she’s not ready for.