Caden pulled out his wallet and handed Tim two twenties, taking the pizza box. “Keep the change.”
Tim’s grin morphed into a megawatt smile. “Thanks, man. See you two around.”
I glared at Caden. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged, and the action bringing attention to a duffel bag hanging off his shoulder. “I didn’t want you here alone.”
Some of the annoyance slipped away. This was how it always was with Caden. He’d piss me off ninety percent of the time, but then I’d get a glimpse of the guy I used to know. The one who always had my back and made me feel understood. Safe. Those glimmers of him were like daggers to my chest because they reminded me of just how much I’d lost. But I still hungered for them all the same. I was a masochist that way.
I didn’t say anything, just stepped back so Caden could enter. He strode into my space as if he owned it. But that was how he entered every room, his presence bleeding out into the ether and taking over.
I closed the door, flipped the lock, and set the alarm. Then I headed into the living room. I came up short as Caden stood in the middle of the room staring at the dummy with my knives embedded in its chest and head.
“Gigi…”
I took the pizza box from his hands and moved to the kitchen. “Yes?”
“Why is there a mannequin in your living room that looks like it just got ax murdered?”
“It’s not a mannequin. It’s a martial arts dummy, and his name is Bob.”
Caden slid his bag off his shoulder and set it next to the couch. “What did Bob ever do to you?”
I pulled two plates out of the cabinet and loaded up a piece of pizza on both. “Bob is the best man in my life because he lets me take out all my aggressions on him.”
Caden snorted. “Bob’s screwed.” He crossed the small space, his gaze sweeping over my face. “When did you pick up knife throwing?”
The question had a deep ache taking root in my chest. Caden used to know everything about me. If I picked up some random new hobby, discovered a new book or band, or found a new hiking spot, he would’ve been the first one I told. But that couldn’t be further from the truth now.
“A couple of years ago.” I opened a drawer and pulled out two brightly colored placemats and napkins, handing them to Caden. “Set these out on the coffee table?”
He tore his gaze from my face and studied the items in his hands. “You eat at the coffee table?”
I shrugged. “It’s got the view. I like it.”
Even as the sky was turning dark, the moon illuminated the water below and created a sparkling canvas you could get lost in.
“You need a real table and chairs,” Caden grumbled as he set the coffee table.
I grabbed a regular Coke and a diet from the fridge. “And you need to remove the stick shoved where the sun doesn’t shine.”
Annoyance flickered in Caden’s expression. “I’m not in preschool, and this isn’t snack time.”
I handed him the sodas and took the two plates to the table. “Are you so old that you can’t get up and down anymore? Do I need to get you a cane?”
Caden’s lips twitched. “If I break a hip, it’s on you.”
I pulled out two of the meditation cushions I used for seats. They were both jewel-toned with rich gold embroidery. “Here, this should help your delicate disposition.”
Caden had set us both up on the same side of the coffee table so we could lean against the couch. I lowered myself to my cushion and mentally calculated the carbs in my meal, then adjusted my insulin pump.
“What are you doing?”
Caden’s gravelly voice skated over my skin. He was close—too close—but I couldn’t let that show.
“I told you before; I’m just giving myself insulin to cover my carbs.”
“I know, but how do you know how much to give yourself?”