It’s quiet when he comes in. You thought you wiped your face well enough. That the soft hiccup of breath wouldn’t betray you. But Kade notices everything.

He’s already shutting the door behind him, setting his keys down like the world outside doesn’t matter. Then his eyes land on you, curled up on the couch, hoodie sleeves pulled past your fingers, lashes damp. He doesn't speak right away. Just crosses the room in two strides, kneels in front of you, and takes your face in his hands. Not rough. Careful. “What happened?” he asks softly. Voice low. Steady. Scary calm, but not at you.

You shake your head. “Nothing. I just…”

His thumb brushes your cheekbone. “Who hurt you?”

You blink up at him. He’s not asking like a jealous man. He’s asking like someone who would tear down walls with his bare hands to fix the crack in your voice. “I just got overwhelmed,” you say. “Everything hit me at once.”

Kade exhales — one of those long, silent breaths that feels like it's holding the weight of his own heart. Then, quietly “Tell me what to do.” His hands stay on you. “Tell me what to say. What to fix. What to break. I’ll do it.”

Your chest aches. “I just need you here.”

He doesn’t hesitate. Kade lifts you gently, pulls you into his lap, your body curled against his chest like he was made to carry it. He doesn’t kiss you. Not yet. He just holds you tighter than anyone ever has and whispers into your hair “Then I’m not going anywhere. Not in this life. Not in any other. I got you, always”