Cade.
I hadn't been called Cade in years.
"Hi, Junebug.” I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Sure, it was something like twenty years later, but it was just like being a teenager again.
“No one’s called me Junebug in forever,” she said. When she stepped forward, kissing me on the cheek, her lips smooth against my skin, I felt an immediate jolt. It was that familiar electricity between us that had always existed.
She pulled back and I grabbed her arms, the instinct to hold her taking over me. I didn't want to let her go. Gazing into her eyes was like taking a twenty-year journey back in time. For a split second, I saw it in her eyes - that look.
It was the same look she used to give me when we were teenagers.
That same way she had looked at me before her sister died.
I had the nearly irresistible urge to pull her into me and cover her mouth with mine. But then I felt her pull back, and the moment passed.
I let her go.
“You look different,” she said.
Different.
You look like shit would probably have been more accurate. Could she see the darkness that surrounded me now? Sometimes I felt like it oozed from my pores, seeped out, stinking up everything I got near.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” I said. No, that wasn’t true at all. Her face no longer held the same innocence it did back then, and I knew there was pain behind her eyes. But she wore that pain beautifully, etched into the lines on her face.
June laughed, the sound light, and I instantly ached to hear it more. “I hope that’s not true.” She was silent for a minute. Then, “You’re a biker now."
"Yeah." Why did I feel ashamed admitting that to her?
"Axe, huh?" She pointed at the name on my leather cut. "One percent."
I could feel my face get warm. I didn't want to explain why I was called Axe. Or what one percent meant. Not to her. She was too good for that shit.
I changed the subject. “I heard you’re in the Navy.”
“I was," she said, leaning back on the porch railing. "But I'm here now. I got out."
“You’re back in town?” I asked. “For good?”
I was suddenly interested in her answer. Why the hell did I care? This wasn't a fucking social visit, and neither of us were the same people we were when we were kids.
"Yeah," she said, tucking her hair behind her ear and biting on her lip. I couldn't stop looking at her mouth, at the nervous gesture, the thing she would do when she wanted me, back when we were sixteen and couldn't keep our hands off each other. I don't even think she ever knew she was doing it.
I wondered if she knew what she was doing to me now, if she knew I wanted to rip her clothes off and take her right here in the driveway.
"Yeah," she said. "I'm back. I bought Mrs. Crawford's old place."
Oh, hell.
"Next door?” I asked. Of course she was moving in next door to my father. I told myself it didn't matter. I wouldn't be here long enough to matter.
“Cade," my father said, his voice firm. He stood at the door, as if he were consciously trying to interrupt us. “Get inside.”
I had a flash of irritation at him, at being spoken to like I was a child, at the way he'd just broken the moment between June and I. But part of me was relieved. I didn't need to be talking to her like that. I didn't need her to be looking at me like that, as if not a day had passed since I'd last seen her.
"It was good to see you, June," I said, as I turned to walk inside. I could feel my father's gaze, steady on me as I passed him, my boots heavy on the wooden porch.
"Be careful there, June," I heard him say. "Cade's been gone a long time. Things are different now."
I couldn't hear what she said.
Sitting in the guest bedroom in my father's house, I closed my eyes and rested my head against the wall. It was late, but I rarely slept much anymore anyway, not since the Marine Corps, and tonight would be no exception. There was too much to occupy my brain, trying to process all the shit that was going on with the club. I knew when I was being set up, and this shit with the club stank to high heaven. I no longer trusted the Club President. Or many other people, for that matter.
Which is why I was here now.
It was almost midnight, and I could hear my dad out in the living room watching television, some late night talk show. I knew he wasn’t actually watching television. Knowing him, he was trying to figure out what the hell to do with me here. I had put him in a tough position. He hated the idea of me in the club, and worse, bringing that mess here with me. But at the same time, he wouldn't turn away Crunch's family. Not when there was a kid involved.
I had no idea when the club would realize we weren't dead, but I knew what would happen when they figured it out. And I didn't want to bring that shit down on my dad.