Skylar's POV

When I woke up, Caden was gone.

It left me a bit ruffled, more so than I usually was in the mornings, because I didn't remember getting in bed--not in this king-sized bed with this soft, fluffy duvet over me--last night. I didn't, quite frankly, remember much about last night.

It wasn't a total blackout, but my hungover headache and the fact that the left side of my face was pounding almost feverishly weren't really letting me think straight.

I sat up and groaned, slowly rubbing the back of my shoulder and looking around the bedroom I was in. Like the rest of this house, as I started remembering from last night, there were minimal pieces of furniture here. The walls were white and hadn't been painted at all, which left the room feeling rather cold. Bare.

I wondered, for probably the fiftieth time, whose house this really was.

I pushed the duvet aside and got up from the bed, wrapping my arms around myself when a shiver ran through me. Under those sheets had been warm, but out here with no jacket on, it was way colder. Where was my jacket even? Had I left it back in that alley?

"Fuck," I groaned again, rubbing my entire face this time. God, I hoped not.

There were rays of the morning sun peeking through the translucent curtains pulled over the windows. I walked barefoot towards a dark wooden door which, as I opened it, led to the bathroom. I locked the door behind me and leaned against it, slowly letting myself look around.

When I was done taking a quick shower, grateful for the warm water after that fitful nap, I stopped by the basin and looked at myself in the mirror. A tiny wince left my lips when I noticed the starting and the underside of my jaw. The bruise wasn't that big, but a really ugly shade of purplish-yellow. Apart from that, I also had a tiny graze along my cheekbone--one that thankfully wasn't as ghastly looking as the bruise.

I looked away then and my eyes fell on something that had been sitting right there on the polished marble counter in front of me--something that I somehow hadn't noticed. Not until now.

An opened pill bottle. I picked it up gingerly, noticing how it was halfway filled with blue and white capsules. Flurazepam, the prescription label read. I opened the tiny cabinet above the basin and found another identical pill bottle in there. This one was empty, though.

And both of them, I realized as I held them in my hands, had Caden's name printed on the label.

I swallowed and placed them right back where I'd found them, my heart racing in a way that left me unsettled. I'd seen those pills before. I vaguely remembered Dad taking them back when I was maybe twelve and when his migraines had started getting a little too much to handle. Especially during the nights. He'd always take one after dinner, and my young self had always been curious.

But Caden didn't have a migraine problem. I think I knew what a person with migraines looked like. I'd lived with one almost my whole life. Then what were these pills for?

I left the room after I'd disposed of my booze-smelling clothes and put on one of Caden's hoodies, and I shuddered once again when the cold hit my bare legs. Softly rolling my left shoulder until the pain subsided, I walked into a hallway. A plain, empty hallway. The walls out here were painted a light beige that I noticed almost instantly. I walked downstairs and stepped into the lounge, looking past the kitchen and the stools lining the kitchen counter--the one Caden had made me sit down on just last night as he'd patched up the bruise on my face.

Caden, I thought. Where was he?

There were no signs of him out here. None back in the bedroom either--save for that folded hoodie he'd left for me on the empty side of the bed. I grimaced when I thought about my damaged phone, and then I did it again when I nearly ran into the arched wall that led to a room. A room, I saw as I stepped past the arched threshold, which had two huge glass windows that overlooked the neatly groomed backyard outside.

Sunlight spilled into the room and over the two average-sized wooden easels that stood along one corner with a big stack of...canvases. Plain canvases. And paints, I registered as I stepped further inside the room, my eyes darting from one corner to another. Paints and paintbrushes and so many colors.

I frowned, feeling a bit lightheaded for some reason, and sat down on one of the black cushioned stools. Then I picked up a canvas and ran my thumb over its rough surface. It smelled like home. Or my childhood bedroom in Crestmont. Or my room back at my apartment. It smelled like comfort.

And amidst this whole mess, the mess of yesterday and all of those concealed emotions, it felt like a big fucking breath of fresh air. A relief.

Smiling in a daze, I placed the canvas over one of the closest easels, fingers so familiar over the surface that a tiny sigh left my lips. Sure and familiar. It was another relief when I picked up one of the green paints in my hands and twisted open the cap. It was sealed. Everything in here was untouched and so new.

I didn't see the minutes ticking by as I picked up a paintbrush that felt right between my fingers, opening one paint tube after another as I took in all the beautiful shades of blues and greens and yellows. The tension in my shoulders drained away as seconds went by. I painted and painted and for a brief moment, that's all I really saw and cared about.

The sunlight coming through the glass windows made it all seem much less cold. And it was just perfect. I forgot about everything. All until I felt another presence in the room, the sound of another stool scraping against the floor behind me before there were arms around my waist, a familiar solid weight.

I still jumped a little in surprise, even though I think I did hear him coming, and almost fell off the stool if Caden hadn't pulled me back flush against his chest.

"You weren't supposed to find this room." He murmured into my ear, chin softly resting over my shoulder--the one that didn't hurt. "At least not yet."

It was only then that it occurred to me that maybe...maybe this hadn't even been for me.

I stopped and pulled the paintbrush away from the canvas that was already filled with so many colors and colorful strokes.

"Oh." I stared at it, wide-eyed. "This wasn't for me?"

A beat of silence went by before Caden let out a huff of breath--which could've easily passed as a laugh--before he placed a kiss over the shell of my ear. I pressed back into him, warm and snug, carefully rolling the paintbrush between my fingers.

"Of course, it is, Anderson." He said. "I don't know anyone else who loves this as much as you do."

A small smile formed on my lips. "That's sweet of you." Because no one, no one that I knew had ever tried doing anything this sweet for me. "Why did you..." And then the words just vanished from the tip of my tongue, the smile vanishing from my lips when I glanced down at his hand that rested over the side of my waist and noticed his utterly poor attempt at washing the blood off his knuckles--his knuckles that looked freshly busted.

Hurriedly placing the paintbrush aside, I turned around in my seat until I faced him and watched as his eyes darted to the paintbrush (which was now on the floor) and back at me.

"What's this?" I asked him in a rush, gripping his right hand in between both of my own. Caden seemed to realize what I meant and pulled his hand away. I took it back. "Caden, why...Where were you? And why--Did you wash it before you came in here, thinking I wouldn't notice it?"

"Well, I tried." His brows furrowed.

Not just the back of his hand, I realized a bit belatedly, but his lower lip was busted at one corner too. I leaned closer in worry and finally took in the rest of his appearance, noticing that he was still dressed the same as last night. The dark blue sweatshirt that he wore only looked a bit muddied. And his hair--I frowned and ran my free hand through his utterly disheveled locks of ink black hair.

"What," I asked, "did you do?"

He looked down at his hand that I now held in between my own. "Not what I wish I could've done."

"Which is?" I prompted.

"I went...back there. Inside the bar this time." He glanced up at me. "I did try asking nicely from that bartender, don't give me that look."

"What look?" I asked a little incredulously, and then my eyes widened even more. "You fought with the bartender? You hit a girl?"

"What? No." He scowled. "There wasn't any girl. There was a guy alone serving behind the bar and he was pissing me off. And I had to let it out somehow. I've been keeping it all in since the moment I saw you all...bloodied up at that street. I was mad, Skylar. I still am."

"But not as much as you were before," I stared at him. "Not when you've let it all out by beating up an innocent guy. Not when you've got your own busted lip and bruised knuckles."

"I thought we could match."

I wanted to glare at him but I couldn't as my voice lowered to a whisper, "That's not what you were supposed to say."

Caden huffed and I could see that he wanted to get up and leave, maybe even dismiss this whole conversation altogether. I didn't let go of his hand, though. I searched across his face and I wanted to know how long had he been up for while I'd been fast asleep. "He told me that he may have seen the guy who'd been stalking you the whole night, Anderson." 

I stiffened a little and Caden's gaze snapped up to mine. His brows pinched together. "Someone was following you around. The same person who hit you."

I ran my tongue over my lips, looking down at our hands and softly brushing my thumb over a line on his palm. "Did he tell you who it was?"

"No. That's why I got pissed."

I nudged him on the shoulder and his frown softened a little. "Don't go after him, Caden. Please."

"The bartender?" A quick flash of confusion ran over his features. "Why?"

"Not the bartender. I meant the person who was after me last night. In that bar...let's just drop it, please. I don't think it will be worth it."

My words seemed to have the opposite effect than the one I'd intended to have.

The look in his eyes hardened into one that could've passed easily as a threat. "Not worth it?"

I let go of his hand and breathed out exasperatedly, pushing a few loose strands of my hair behind my ears.

"You remember who it was." Caden refused to look away now. The scowl on his face deepened. "You saw him."

"Of course, I saw him!"

"Then why did you..." He trailed off. "Skylar, what are you doing?"

"Nothing." I breathed out a short, frustrated laugh. "I'm doing nothing! I'm sitting here in front of you and I'm trying to fucking forget what happened yesterday."

A handful of seconds passed by and I regretted, I instantly regretted saying anything then. This wasn't fair to him.

Caden kept staring at me, a stare so heated, but he remained silent.

I gritted out, "I'm sorry." Though I refused to look at him. Not until I felt his hand on the side of my face, his hold gentle as he made me look up.

"You're choosing to not tell me something, Sky." He gave a half-shrug and all of a sudden, I just felt so so sad. "I know how that goes. It is a bit weird though, to be at the receiving end for once."

I stared at him, hard, until I exhaled and it came out more like a laugh, a much more genuine laugh. Caden had a tiny smile on his lips too.

I swallowed and leaned forward, nearing him and brushing my lips against his cheek in a soft, chaste kiss, near that goddamned dimple of his.

Then I pulled away and asked, "Where's my jacket?"

His green eyes gleamed as he raised a brow.

"Your jacket. The one I was wearing last night." I clarified.

Caden understood what I was hinting at and told me it was still there in the lounge. I followed him out and took the black leather jacket from his hands as he picked it up from the dark couch.

"What about it?" He asked as he watched me rummage through the pockets before I finally (relieved that it was still there) took out the familiar crisp, white envelope marred with dried blood.

"This...um..." I trailed off and looked up at him. His watchful gaze was fixated on me. "I found this inside that box. The one that had Mrs. Marshall's..." My mouth went dry and I waved it off with a shrug.

Caden was frowning by the time he guided me to sit down on the couch and joined beside me, slowly taking the envelope from me. I absentmindedly wiped my hands on the couch.

"You found this inside?" He asked me. "Between all that...other stuff." He was being careful, I could see that. And it also made my cheeks heat up in shame.

I nodded. "There's something inside. You should see it. I should've...probably shown it to you earlier."

I watched as his fingers flicked over the seal, gaze running over the printed bold words on the front, before flipping it open and taking out the photograph from inside.

Show this to anyone else and the next time it will be someone much closer to you.

I watched and I watched as he looked at the photo in his hand, recognized it, and something--some foreign emotion--flickered over his features.

It made my heart race in a way that wasn't nice at all. The bad kind.

I felt the seconds passing by until he looked up at me, his gaze questioning. I reached out and flipped the photograph, letting him see the purposeful words written on it.

"That's why you were there," Caden said, glancing back at me. "The Costa Bridge. You went there because--"

"I wanted to see."

"See what, Sky?"

My throat squeezed on itself and I pressed my shoulder against the back of the couch, feeling a throb go down my spine.

"You went out there just because you get this...this photograph?" He sounded incredulous. "Not even thinking how this could've been a perfect fucking trap?"

"It wasn't," I whispered, remembering the pieces of paper I'd found beneath those colorful pebbles, and it was my heart that seemed to throb this time.

"No, but the person who sent you this knew you were there and he followed you to that godforsaken bar."

I remained silent until I couldn't anymore. "You never told me about her."

"About whom?"

"Ana," I said, then started biting my nails anxiously. "I know it's probably none of my business, but I...I just wanted to know. And I took pictures, which I shouldn't have because he--that man crushed my phone and now it must be ruined. And I..."

I needed to call Nova, because what if she left the apartment and left Chicken all alone? Forgot to feed her? What if the police report came back from Mrs. Marshall's case? And Alex! I'd promised him that I would call him and we'd talk to my parents together and--

"Ana?" Caden sounded taken aback. "What the hell are you talking about?"

I swallowed and shrunk back a little. Caden seemed to follow my movement and his eyes widened. "Skylar, Jesus, what in the world--"

"It's nothing." I cut him off with a grimace.

"No. No, it's not nothing." He pushed the photograph and the envelope aside and neared me, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me closer. "How do you know of her? I never told you of her."

I winced because he had that determined look in his eyes now and I knew there wasn't really a way out. There shouldn't be, anyway. I knew I needed to come clean with him. Keeping it hidden wasn't fair.

"She's in that photograph," I spoke up. "And I...when I went there to that bridge, there were these tiny, colorful pebbles, each with a name written over them."

Caden was listening quite intently.

"I saw yours, a blue one that had your--your name written on it. And I saw the paper folded underneath it."

He frowned. "That bridge has been closed for years, Skylar. You're telling me everything is still intact over there? Like it was what? Three, four years ago?"

"So you did go there," I said dumbly.

"Of course, I did! That wasn't the only time I went there. And that still doesn't mean--"

"You'd written I love you on it." My voice fell to a strained whisper. "There were these...stupid, beautiful love letters written to you, Caden. From the same Ana. I took pictures but the same person who'd been stalking me didn't like that and so he crushed my phone beneath his boots."

Caden seemed stunned, to say the least. Even his grip around my waist went slack. "I didn't."

"What did you not?" I whispered softly, staring into the mellowing green of his eyes. A green that I yearned to see every morning and every night. The green that had always felt safe and...like home. Would it always, though?

I watched his features guarding up. I watched the way he restrained himself from saying things that I knew he didn't think were worth saying.

I sighed and made a move to pull away. "Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. I don't even know why I--"

Caden's grip tightened on my waist, just above my hips this time, before he pulled me back against him. "I didn't. I don't know what love letters you're talking about, Anderson, but there's only ever been two people in my life that I've said those words to. Do you hear me?"

Two people. "That's what I said--"

He cut me off again. "You and my mum, Skylar."

"Me and...your..." My voice lowered to almost nothing. I stared at him. "But--"

"No." He said roughly. "I know what was written on that piece of paper. I know because I fucking well wrote it."

I didn't know what to say.

"My mother used to take me there." He added, and he shook his head briefly, in surprise or anger, I didn't know. He did seem a bit pissed--almost as if he couldn't believe I'd even insinuated the opposite. "I only visited that place because of her, Anderson. Don't you get it?"

"Your...birth mother?"

"Yes." His hands came up on either side of my face, cradling it. "Jesus, Sky, I missed her. She left me without a fucking goodbye and I missed her. That's the only reason why I visited that place."

I miss you and I love you. All of a sudden, I felt so fucking awful for even thinking the way I'd been thinking a few minutes ago. When I thought he'd written it for Ana.

"But Ana--"

"I didn't love Ana." His brows furrowed in a look of disbelief and utter incredulity. "Fuck, this was years ago, Sky. I think...Maybe I did try to love her. But I couldn't. Not when I'd just lost my entire family. All I wanted was revenge, on Blake and Kevin and all of Dad's bloody enemies. She was just there and I...I couldn't love anyone then."

But she loved you. And I think I said that out loud since his eyes darkened.

"She didn't." I heard him gritting out. "Ana didn't love me. She hated me."

There must've only been confusion on my face since Caden let out a heavy, aggravated sigh and pulled back, running a hand through his hair and pushing them back from his forehead.

"She needed me. I couldn't. So she..." He was glaring at the photograph he'd thrown aside on the tiny coffee table. "She killed herself."

My speechlessness morphed into surprise and then horror. You play along until I tell you my secret, I remembered those words. Until I ruin your boyfriend the way he ruined me when he killed my