Crossed (Never After Series)

CADE FUCKED ME AGAIN BEFORE LEAVING, AND now I’m back at my new “home,” trying to act normal around Parker. I have concealer on my neck, and my clothes are covering every possible inch of my body because Cade’s fingerprints are tattooed on my skin in light purple marks.

I feel him every time I move, and I love it.

Parker’s home for dinner for the first time since we’ve moved in, and even if I wasn’t feeling awkward and sore, I’d be on edge because this is the first real interaction between him and Quinten. My mind wars between how much I long to make something work with Cade, even though he’s never told me he’d give me more than what we’ve had, and knowing I don’t really have a choice.

I’ve already made a deal with the devil.

Parker’s eyes scan me from across the table, and I force myself to stay still even though I want to fidget in my seat.

“How was your day, sweetheart?” he asks.

I shrug.

Incredible.

Life changing.

I can’t marry you.

Would he hurt Quin?

I should never have come to him.

More than anything, I ache to speak to Dalia, to confess my darkest secrets and let her give me another perspective, but then I think of Cade. And until I find out more about where he stands, I can’t put him at risk of people finding out about us. Even though I trust Dalia with everything in me, the loyalty I feel for protecting Cade and his position reigns supreme.

“Amaya.” Parker’s sharp voice drowns out my wandering thoughts and I jump in place, holding back the wince from how sore I am between my legs.

Quinten’s head snaps up from his iPad at Parker’s sharp tone, his eyes narrowing.

The air in the room pulls taut, and I suck in a breath, anxiety making my palms clammy and my throat close up.

“Sorry, my brain’s a little foggy today.” I grin at him, trying to smooth things over.

He doesn’t smile back, and my gut sinks like a concrete boulder.

“Did you do anything exciting?” he continues, taking a bite of his steak and leaning back in his chair, chewing slowly.

My heart jumps into my throat. “Not much. Took Quinten around to school, ran some errands, and then went with Quin to therapy.” I stab the lettuce from my salad. “This is delicious, by the way. Thanks for ordering in tonight.”

He nods and picks up his tumbler of whiskey, the veins in his neck popping as he swallows and sets it back down, still silent.

Still watching.

Alarm bells ring in my head.

Does he know?

I’m under no illusion he doesn’t get reports back from my driver Barney over where I’m going and what I’m doing. But I wasn’t thinking of that when I was so lost in everything Cade. Besides, even if I had told Barney some made- up story of why I was going where I was going, it wouldn’t have mattered. The man never speaks a word to me.

“How about you?” I ask.

He nods. “It was…illuminating.”

“Oh, that’s good.” I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. “Is everything okay?”

The second the words leave my lips, I wish I could suck them back in. But I’m trying to appear nonchalant, and I don’t know… normal?

“Perfect, sweet girl.” Parker’s responding smile is a thin line that doesn’t show his teeth. “Actually,” he continues, looking between Quinten and me, “I’ve decided we shouldn’t wait any longer. I’m tired of playing by the church’s rules.”

My stomach drops. “What do you mean? I thought the church was important.”

“Remind me again what you’ve learned in your one-on- one lessons?” he asks, tilting his head. “I can’t remember.”

My heart thumps so loudly, I worry he can hear it from across the table.

“I don’t— ”

“Right.” He nods, rubbing his hand along the bottom of his jaw. “We’ll get married next weekend.”

My fork drops, the clack of the metal against white china loud in my ears. Parker’s staring at me, and I clear my expression.

He places his silverware down gently, grabbing the linen napkin and dotting the sides of his mouth before setting that down as well. “I thought you’d be happy.”

I slide my gaze to Quinten, who keeps flicking his eyes to Parker and then to me.

“Can we talk about this later?” I ask, nodding toward Quinten.

Parker sighs, picking up his whiskey and bringing it to his lips, draining the last of the drink. Standing up, he buttons his suit jacket and walks over, pressing a firm kiss to the top of my head, his hand possessively cupping the back of my neck until every hair on my body stands on end.

His fingers press on Cade’s marks, and I bite my cheek from the pain it causes when he puts pressure against the bruises.

“No,” he says. “What’s done is done. My decision’s been made.”

And then he’s gone, back to wherever it is he goes, and I’m left with a wide-eyed Quinten and me trying to smile through the panic so he doesn’t know that anything is wrong.