Jesse & Caden - The Renegade Lovers

Chapter 16: The Quiet Before the Storm

The old cabin creaked and groaned as the wind howled outside, rattling the weathered windows. Inside, Jesse tended to Caden's wounds by the flickering light of a kerosene lamp, his hands steady despite the fear gripping his heart.

"Easy, easy," Jesse murmured as Caden hissed in pain. "Almost done, babe."

Caden gritted his teeth, his face pale and drawn. "Fuck, that hurts."

"Yeah, well, getting shot tends to do that," Jesse replied dryly, though his eyes were soft with concern.

He finished cleaning and redressing the bullet wound in Caden's side, grimacing at the angry red flesh surrounding it. The makeshift first aid kit they'd cobbled together was running low on supplies. If infection set in...

Jesse pushed the thought away. They'd cross that bridge if they came to it. For now, all that mattered was getting through the night.

"There," he said, securing the last of the bandages. "How's that feel?"

Caden took a tentative breath, wincing slightly. "Like I got shot. But better, I think. Thanks, Jess."

Jesse nodded, packing away the remaining medical supplies. "Don't mention it. Can't have you checking out on me now, can I?"

His attempt at levity fell flat, the weight of their situation hanging heavy in the air between them. Jesse busied himself with stoking the small fire in the hearth, trying to ward off the chill that seemed to have seeped into his very bones.

When he turned back, he found Caden watching him with an unreadable expression.

"What?" Jesse asked, suddenly self-conscious.

Caden shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Nothing. Just... thinking about how we ended up here."

Jesse snorted, settling down beside Caden on the threadbare couch. "You mean bleeding and on the run in the ass-end of nowhere? Gee, I wonder whose brilliant idea that was."

"Hey," Caden protested weakly, "you're the one who agreed to be my partner in crime."

"Yeah, well, clearly I have shit judgment."

They lapsed into silence, the crackling of the fire the only sound. Jesse found himself hyper-aware of every point of contact between them - Caden's arm pressed against his, their thighs touching, the warmth of Caden's breath on his neck.

"Do you regret it now?" Caden asked suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jesse turned to look at him, brow furrowed. "Regret what?"

"This. Us. All of it."

For a long moment, Jesse didn't answer. He thought about the life he'd left behind - the dead-end job, the shitty apartment, the suffocating feeling that he was meant for something more. He thought about the exhilaration of that first heist, the way his heart had raced when Caden had kissed him for the first time, high on adrenaline and the thrill of getting away with it.

He thought about the long nights on the road, singing along badly to the radio. The dingy motel rooms and stolen moments of passion. The quiet mornings waking up in each other's arms, feeling for the first time in his life like he truly belonged somewhere.

And yeah, he thought about the fear. The constant looking over their shoulders, the close calls, the violence that seemed to follow them wherever they went. The gnawing guilt that sometimes kept him up at night, wondering about the lives they'd upended in their quest for freedom and fortune.

But through it all, there was Caden. Caden, with his cocky grin and wild schemes. Caden, who looked at Jesse like he hung the fucking moon. Caden, who made him feel alive in a way nothing else ever had.