Heartprints in the Void
⊰ 28 ⊱ I Hate You, I Love You

I lean against the window, my skin still tingling from Cade's touch, my lips swollen from his kiss. The glass feels cool against my shoulder as I try to steady my racing heartbeat, to calm the desire thrumming through my veins and heat between my legs.

The sound of footsteps echoes on the tile floor, pulling me from my thoughts. I cock my head to the side, seeing Cade re-entering the kitchen, now fully dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans. The fabric stretches across his broad shoulders.

*Oh...*

A flicker of disappointment runs through me, but I quickly push it down. It's probably for the best that we stopped when we did. We need to talk, to figure out what this *thing* is between us, before we let it go any further. "How about some breakfast?" Cade offers, his voice still rough, sending a shiver down my spine. He moves towards the fridge, the scent of his cologne mixing with the aroma of coffee in the air.

I nod, not trusting my voice. I move toward the counter, picking a stool as I watch him gather ingredients for what looks like an omelet. The sizzling butter in the pan fills the room, the rich scent of sautéing vegetables making my stomach grumble.

*I'm so hungry.*

I hadn't realized it. I haven't eaten since yesterday's lunch, having told myself I'd grab dinner on the way home from the club, but then...

*I can't believe I let myself get that drunk.*

My gaze flickers to Cade, watching as he effortlessly moves around the kitchen as though he's done it a million times before. It makes me wonder why someone with so much money, so much power, would choose to live so...humbly. Then again, this is Cade. His mother made sure to raise him to not be *privilegedly incompetent.

But even as he carries himself seamlessly, I can tell there's something weighing heavy on his mind. There's a tension in the set of his shoulders, a furrow in his brow that wasn't there before.

*What was that phone call about..?*

Whatever it was, I can tell it rattled him.

"Is everything okay?" I ask softly, concern overriding my apprehension.

He pauses, his hand hovering over the bowl of whisked eggs. When he turns to me, there's a look on his face I've never seen before. Fear, guilt, sorrow, all warring for dominance in his ocean-blue eyes. "What is it?" I press, my heart lodging in my throat, the acrid taste of dread filling my mouth.

He sets the bowl down with a clatter, bracing his hands on the counter. The marble squeaks under his palms, the sound harsh in the sudden silence.

"Elysian, I..." His voice falters, the words seeming to stick in his throat. "I'm in love with you. I want to be with you."

Joy soars through me, bright and bubbling. The words I've longed to hear, a confirmation that this pull, this connection, isn't one-sided.

But then I notice the grief etched into the lines of his face, the anguish pooling in his eyes, and my elation turns to lead in my gut.

"So why are you looking at me like that?" I whisper, my voice thin and reedy in my ears.

With a heavy sigh, Cade reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. The screen lights up his face as he taps and swipes, before he hands it to me, his fingers brushing mine, leaving sparks in their wake.

It's a picture of a baby girl, no more than two years old. She has Cade's eyes, the same cerulean blue that's haunted my dreams. His nose, his chin, his golden hair. She's a perfect miniature of him, right down to the dimple winking in her chubby cheeks.

"I have a daughter, Ely."

The world spins, the colors blurring together like a kaleidoscope. I grip the edge of the counter, my knuckles turning white, as I try to make sense of the words, to fit them into the reality I thought I knew.

"Her name is Naomi," Cade continues, his tone soft, reverent. "She just turned two."

*Naomi.*

The name we'd chosen for *our* future daughter, whispered in the dark, sealed with kisses and promises. The name that was supposed to be *ours*.

Acid claws up my throat, burning, searing. I shove the phone back into his hands and stumble back, my heel catching on the rug. "I have to..."

I don't finish. I can't. I turn and run, the floor cold and hard beneath my bare feet. I barely make it to the bathroom before I'm heaving, the contents of my stomach splattering into the toilet bowl.

Hot tears stream down my face as I rinse my mouth, the minty taste of toothpaste doing little to chase away the bitterness on my tongue. I avoid my reflection, knowing I'll see the shards of my shattered heart in my eyes. *He has a daughter.*

...

*He has a child...with another woman.*

...

*And this whole time...I couldn't even stomach the thought of another man's hands one me, but he...*

All this time, I've been faithful to his memory. I'm not delusional, I was never under the impression that he'd been *celibate* this entire time, especially not after replaceing out about the hypnosis.

But this? This is....

*It hurts. So much, it hurts...*

I stand in the bathroom a while longer, leaning against the bathroom counter, trying to pull myself together.

When I finally gather the courage to return to the kitchen, Cade is sitting at the island, his head cradled in his hands. The golden morning light filters through the windows, casting shadows across his face, aging him, deepening the lines of grief and guilt.

*I should go.*

I should run, as far and as fast as my legs will carry me. Leave him and his perfect little family in the dust and never look back.

But I'm rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the anguish in his eyes as he lifts his head to look at me. Hot and stinging tears blur my vision as he stands, taking a step towards me.

"Don't leave," he pleads, his voice quavering. "Please, Ely. Let me explain."

"Stop calling me that!" The words are acid on my tongue, burning, blistering. I step back, holding up a trembling hand as if I can ward off the pain, the betrayal. "Just...just stop."

But he doesn't. He keeps coming, his strides long and determined, until he's right in front of me, close enough to touch, to taste.

"I was fine," I choke out, the tears falling faster, dripping off my chin and splattering on the tile. "I was doing just fine until you showed up. I was moving on, I was healing. And then you...you..."

I can't stop the sobs that break from my lips, great, heaving things that rip through me, tearing at my lungs, my heart. I lash out, my fists pounding against the solid wall of his chest, the soft cotton of his shirt. Anywhere I can reach, anything to make him feel even a fraction of the pain consuming me.

"I hate you," I gasp, the words muffled against his chest. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

But even as I say it, I know it's a lie. I could never hate him, no matter how badly I want to. Even now, with my heart lying shattered at my feet, I love him. God help me, I'll always love him.

Gradually, my blows weaken, my anger dissipating like mist under the heat of the sun. I collapse against him, my forehead pressed to his chest, my tears soaking into his shirt. The fabric is soft against my skin, the steady thrum of his heartbeat an achingly familiar rhythm beneath my cheek.

His strong arms wrap around me, holding me close. I know I should push him away. I should run and never look back. But I can't. His embrace is the only place I've ever truly felt safe, truly felt whole.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, his breath ruffling my hair. "I'm so sorry, Ely. I never wanted to hurt you. I never meant for any of this to happen."

But it *did* happen. He *did* hurt me, shattered me in ways I'm not sure I can ever fully recover from.

And yet, even as I stand here, broken and bleeding, I know I'll replace a way to forgive him. I always have. I always do.

*How many more ways am I going to hurt before I'm finally happy..?*