Page 30 of Faking It with the Ice Queen

Grace lay alone in the bed, the sheets cooling beside her where Elara had been just moments before. She stared up at the ceiling, barely able to process the ache left in the room, in her chest. Her skin still tingled from Elara’s touch, her lips slightly swollen from their fierce, breathless kisses. Yet instead of the warmth she’d hoped would linger, all she felt was an empty chill settling in around her.

She blinked against the dark, trying to push down the sting of tears gathering in her eyes. It felt like every part of her had been laid bare for Elara, a vulnerability she hadn’t planned on but had surrendered to, drawn in by the fire in Elara’s gaze, the urgency in her touch. And then, without a word, Elara had slipped away, leaving nothing but silence and the twisted sheets behind.

A knot formed in Grace’s throat, tight and burning. She was confused, yes—unable to make sense of how someone could kiss her like that, touch her like that, only to pull away so completely, so easily. But under the confusion, anger simmered, raw and undeniable. How dare Elara act like this was something she could just take and leave as she pleased? How dare she walk away, leaving Grace here to put herself back together, alone?

Grace turned onto her side, her fingers gripping the edge of the pillow as she fought to steady her breath. She tried to remember every look Elara had given her, every whispered word that might explain this, but all that came to mind were the moments of coldness, the distance Elara kept forcing between them, as if Grace were something she needed to keep at arm’s length.

But this wasn’t something Grace could just let slide, not anymore. She wouldn’t allow herself to be pulled close one moment then pushed away the next like some convenience for Elara to indulge in and discard. Her heart ached with something deeper than anger, a hurt that ran all the way down to the bones. But beneath that hurt was a spark of something harder, something determined.

Sitting up, Grace ran a hand through her hair, her fingers clenching into her tangled curls. She wouldn’t lie here waiting, hoping Elara might come back to give her an answer. No, she would confront Elara, demand the truth. She needed to know what this meant, to understand why Elara felt the need to keep building walls, even as they tore them down together.

Her heart pounded with a mix of hurt and resolve as she got out of bed, pulling on her robe and bracing herself for whatever might come. Elara had left her with a wound that needed healing—or, at the very least, an answer. And she wasn’t going to rest until she got one.

Grace sat on the edge of the bed, her hand clenched in the fabric of her robe as she listened to the water running in the bathroom, the sound grating against her raw nerves. She’d pulled herself out of bed, determined to get answers, but now, each second of waiting only made the wound deepen. She ran her fingers through her tangled curls, the silence amplifying every flicker of doubt and hurt that gnawed at her.

Her mind replayed their moments together—every look, every whispered word—and with each one, the coldness that had crept into Elara’s eyes became sharper, more damning. Grace could still feel the intensity of Elara’s touch on her skin, the way it had shattered her walls and made her believe, however briefly, that something real existed between them. But now, all she felt was the emptiness left behind.

The water stopped, and Grace took a shaky breath, her heart thudding as she braced herself. Elara couldn’t keep pulling her close one moment then pushing her away the next. Not anymore. This wasn’t something Grace could just let slide, not after everything they’d shared. Her heart ached with a hurt that cut to the bone, yet beneath that pain was a spark of something harder—a determination to finally get the truth, whatever it might cost.

When the bathroom door creaked open, Grace stood, the weight of her emotions coiled tightly in her chest. Elara stepped out, her hair damp, her face blank, every line of her posture guarded. The sight of her, so cold and distant, sent a fresh surge of anger and hurt rushing through Grace.

“Elara,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper but filled with all the pain and resolve she’d been holding back. “What the hell was that?”

Elara’s gaze flicked to her, impassive, and for a brief moment, something almost like guilt flashed in her eyes—but it was gone just as quickly, replaced by that steely, unyielding expression Grace had come to know all too well.

“Grace, I thought we understood each other,” Elara replied, her tone as cold as her expression. “This—us—was always just an arrangement. Nothing more.”

Grace’s chest tightened, her fingers clenching into fists at her sides as the words hit her, each one a blade. Her voice shook as she spoke, barely holding back the pain lacing her words. “Youcan’t honestly believe that, Elara. You can’t just…kiss me like that, have sex with me like that, and then act like none of it matters.”

Elara’s face didn’t soften; if anything, it hardened. “I never asked you to put meaning into this, Grace. If you decided to get attached, that’s your problem, not mine.”

The words stung, but Grace didn’t back down. She took a step closer, her voice rising as frustration mixed with heartbreak. “You’re lying. I know you feel something; you wouldn’t have let me in otherwise. But you’re so damn scared of being vulnerable that you’d rather throw this away than admit you care.”

Elara’s jaw tightened, her voice cold and clipped. “Maybe I don’t care, Grace. Maybe this was just…convenient.”

The words left Grace reeling, a fresh wave of hurt and betrayal crashing over her. She swallowed hard, refusing to let the tears that burned her eyes fall. “So, that’s it? After everything we’ve shared, I’m just convenient?”

Elara’s gaze turned icy, her tone dismissive. “Yes, Grace. That’s exactly what this is. If you can’t handle that, then maybe you should have kept your feelings to yourself.”

Grace’s heart shattered, each cold word a hammer blow to her resolve. She felt her pulse thudding in her ears, every fiber of her being screaming for her to stay and fight, to keep pushing. But she couldn’t—couldn’t bear to stand here and let Elara cut her down piece by piece.

Without another word, she turned toward the closet, her vision blurring as she gathered the few belongings that were truly hers, leaving the clothes Elara had given her untouched. Each small movement felt excruciating, her heart breaking as she pulled on her shirt in the charged silence, her every action a silent plea for Elara to say something, to stop her from leaving.

But Elara said nothing, watching her with a mask of indifference that cut deeper than any words could.

As Grace pulled her bag over her shoulder, she forced herself to meet Elara’s gaze one last time. Her voice was barely a whisper, thick with hurt and resolve. “Goodbye, Elara.”

She turned and walked out of the room, the door clicking softly shut behind her. With each step down the hall, she could feel the weight of her own heartache pressing down on her, but she didn’t look back. She couldn’t bear to, couldn’t let herself hope for something she knew Elara would never give.

The cold night air bit at Grace’s skin as she stepped outside the resort, wrapping her arms around herself as she waited for the Uber. She shivered, her eyes stinging as she stared out at the dark expanse of Lake Tahoe. The water was still, the reflection of the stars scattered across its surface—an indifferent beauty that felt painfully at odds with the hollowness spreading through her chest.

Her phone buzzed, the app notifying her that the driver had arrived. She glanced up and saw a car pull up, headlights casting a pale glow over the driveway. She forced herself to walk forward, to keep moving, even as her heart begged her to turn around, to run back inside and confront Elara one last time. But she knew it wouldn’t matter; Elara’s cold, detached gaze would still be there, as unyielding as stone.

The driver rolled down his window as she approached. “Grace?” he asked, his voice kind and warm.

She nodded, mumbling a quiet “yes,” as she climbed into the back, pulling the door shut behind her. She felt the ache sharpen as she settled into the seat, her hands clenching around the strap of her bag. The car began to move, pulling away from the resort, from Elara, from every painful reminder of what she’d thought they could be.

The silence stretched as they drove, broken only by the hum of the engine and the occasional crackle of the radio. Grace stared out the window, watching the dark trees blur past, herreflection faint and ghostly in the glass. She looked at herself—the hurt in her own eyes, the lines of exhaustion and sorrow etched into her face—and felt an overwhelming urge to cry, but she held it back, clinging to whatever was left of her composure.

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