I glanced over at the clock and sighed. I needed to get up. I had papers to grade and if I wanted to be done by the time he got back, I needed to get started. And I definitely didn't want anything to get in the way of my time with Cade. My stomach growled. Besides, I was ready for breakfast.
I didn't know how I did it, but somehow I managed to concentrate enough to get my papers done in record time. I actually went back and checked the first couple just to make sure I hadn't gotten distracted and missed things, but no. They were done and I had nothing to do but wait. It was getting close to noon, so I decided to tidy up and then took a shower, figuring Cade would be back by the time I got out. When he wasn't and it was now past one, I considered eating lunch but couldn't quite stomach it. I started pacing by one thirty and by two I was getting really worried. Even if he'd left just minutes before I'd woken up, he should've been back by now. He didn't have that many clients. Even if he'd talked to each one for ten minutes, packed a bag, then loitered around the loft while collecting the photos, he should've been back by now.
A mean voice in the back of my head suggested that maybe this had been the way he'd decided to get rid of me. That he'd left me too. I put my hand on the place where my shoulder and neck met. The bruise there was dark, a reminder that I was his and he was mine. Nothing else mattered. He wouldn't have left me. If he hadn't wanted to be with me, he never would've come back, never would've said he loved me. All he'd had to do was walk away. And he wasn't the kind to play games. If I knew nothing else about him, I knew that. He was straightforward, had been from the moment we'd met.
No, something was wrong. I could feel it in my gut.
I called his cell and, after several rings, it went to voicemail. I frowned, but refused to let myself panic. He might've been in the middle of something. I waited five minutes and then called back. Same thing. Now I was getting really anxious. I couldn't see him letting it ring and ring twice in a row. It wasn't like he'd sent it to voicemail after a single ring because he was busy.
I might've been overreacting and I hoped that I was, but something deep inside me said that I wasn't. I needed to find him. I didn't know where he lived, but he'd also said he was going to his loft. That's where I'd start. If he wasn't there, I'd have to figure out a way to get his address.
I practically ran down the stairs, unable to stomach being in the elevator, just standing there while it went down, the memories of the previous night playing in my head. No, I needed to be moving. To my relief, I spotted a taxi almost immediately and waved it down.
I quickly gave him the address and promised a big tip if he got me there in ten minutes. The driver glanced at me and I could tell he was doubtful that I could afford a tip that would make that kind of driving worth it. Then he saw my face and realized that I wasn't asking for the fun of it. He nodded and pulled away from the curb fast enough to throw me back in my seat. I spent the entire trip with my nails digging into the seat, my knuckles white, my stomach churning. I didn't usually believe in premonitions or anything like that, but I couldn't deny this horrible feeling that Cade was in trouble and I was going to be too late to stop it.
When I got to the loft, I quickly paid the cabbie and gave him a big enough tip that he asked if I wanted him to wait. I thanked him and told him if I wasn't back in five minutes to go ahead and leave. It'd take me less time than that to see if Cade was there. The loft was spacey, but it was only one room and a bathroom. And it wasn't like he was going to hide from me.
I took the steps one at a time, but it was all I could do not to run up them. I knocked on the door, then sucked in a breath when the knock pushed the door open. My heart was in my throat as I pushed the door open even further, my hand shaking. I tried not to think about what could've happened here as I took my first step inside. This place held a lot of good memories, but I wasn't thinking about any of those when I saw the mess.
At first, I couldn't figure out what was covering the floor, but when I took a closer look, my blood ran cold. They were my pictures. The ones Cade had taken of me last week. The ones he'd come back here to get. I pressed my hands together as I forced my head up. Cade wasn't lying on the ground with what was left of my pictures.
I scanned the room, stopping when I saw a shape on the bed in the back. I reached over and switched on a light. It confirmed what I'd thought. Cade was lying on the bed and the knot in my stomach eased. He'd just fallen asleep. Not surprising. We'd had a long night. Maybe the pictures had been the result of a break-in and he'd fallen asleep waiting for the cops.
I was halfway across the room, already thinking of enjoyable ways I could wake him up, when I realized he wasn't alone. But it wasn't a woman in bed with him. A sandy-haired man with a scar on his cheek had his arm thrown over Cade's stomach.
I almost bolted, sickened by the thought I'd been lied to. Then I realized what was really wrong with this picture.
The man's arm wasn't moving.
Cade wasn't breathing.
Chapter 7
I forgot about what this looked like. Forgot my questions as to why Cade was in bed with a man. Forgot about everything but the fact that the man I loved wasn't breathing.
“Cade!”
He didn't respond when I yelled his name.
I ran the rest of the way, nearly falling as my feet skidded on the torn photographs. With each step, another detail of the scene imprinted in my mind, seared there in such a way that I knew I'd never forget any of them.
Cade's skin was pale, too pale.
The man wrapped around Cade was stretched out, like he'd lain down, but Cade wasn't laying. He was slumped like he'd been sitting and fallen over.
There was a glass on the floor, pieces of it broken, drops of liquid splashed across the wood. The smell of alcohol was in the air.
I reached the bed, my heart pounding. “Cade!” I said his name again before reaching out to touch him. I almost didn't want to, afraid that his skin would be cold, that I'd waited too long to look for him. No, I told myself. I couldn't lose him, not when we'd just found each other.
I shoved the stranger's arm off of Cade, barely glancing at the other man as he rolled onto his back. I heard him exhale and then ignored him. If he was breathing, I wasn't about to pay any attention to him. I didn't know if I would've anyway. All of my attention was on Cade.
I reached out, my hand shaking. I pressed my fingers against the side of his neck and nearly sobbed with relief when I felt his pulse. It was weak, but it was there. Then I put my hand on his chest and my heart skipped a beat. My first assumption had been correct. He wasn't breathing.
I dug my phone out of my pocket and dialed 911, putting it on speakerphone as I leaned over Cade, trying to remember what I'd learned about CPR during my freshman year health class.
I tilted his head back, opened his mouth and pinched his nose shut. I blew in a single breath before a woman's voice came over the air.
“Nine one-one, do you have an emergency?”
“I need an ambulance.” My voice trembled. “Something happened to my boyfriend. He's not breathing.”
“Okay, ma'am, what is your location?”
I rattled off the address, then leaned down to blow another breath into Cade's lungs. I could barely see through the tears burning in my eyes.