Page 317 of Hate Mates

Christiane doesn't look at me. Not yet. She just pulls the picnic blanket around herself, drawing back, ensuring space. But I can feel her; the way her body is still humming with what we just shared, how her chest rises and falls faster than usual.

"Adam!" Eli calls again, but it is more urgent this time.

Christiane finally turns her gaze to me, her eyes steady, searching. "Why?" Her voice is soft, but hits like a punch to the gut. "Why have you been sonastyto me?"

I look at her, my heart pounding in my chest. It should be easy to lie. It should be easy to say anything but the truth. But the words are already there, bubbling to the surface, and I can't hold them back.

"I didn't want you here," I say, my voice rougher than expected.

Her brows furrow, and for a moment, I think she didn't hear me right. She tilts her head, her expression hardening. "What?"

"I didn't want you here," I repeat, each word heavier than the last. The truth weighs a ton. "You don't belong here, Christiane. Not on this land. Not in my world."

Her breath catches, but she doesn't look away. She holds my gaze, unflinching, waiting for the rest.

And I give it to her.

"My grandfather was cheated out of everything—his land, his legacy—and I've been trying for twenty years to buy it all back," I confess, my hands balling into fists at my sides. "Your land… it was the last piece. The last piece I needed."

Christiane's eyes don't soften. She doesn't move, doesn't retreat. She just watches me, and I feel like I've laid myself bare for the first time, despite what just happened between us. I button my shirt, snagging my pants , and she slowly pulls her own on.

"I didn't want you to be part of this." The anger I've held for so long slips through. "I thought if I pushed you away, you'd leave. But you didn't." I swallow hard, trying to find the words. "And now... I don't know what I'm supposed to do with you."

The silence thickens. I expect her to yell at me, to call me every name under the sun. Instead, she stands, slow and steady, her eyes never leaving mine.

"You could've just told me," she says, her voice quiet, measured, almost resigned. She brushes the hay from her clothes, before quietly staring at me expectantly.

I can't respond right away. I don't have a response. I should've been honest from the start, but I was too damn proud. Too scared of what it meant, of what it could cost me.

Her hand reaches out tentatively, and her fingers brush mine. The contact is gentle and careful, but the heat of it sends a shiver through me. I want to pull her closer. I want to say anything, but the words don't come.

"You could start by being honest with me now," she says, her lips curling into a small, almost teasing smile.

I look at her, really look at her. The woman who's been standing in my way, who's been forcing me to confront everything I've been running from. For a second, I forget about the land, my grandfather, everything except that Christiane is here, standing in front of me, and I don't want her to leave.

But then, reality comes crashing back in. The weight, of everything I've been carrying, hits me all over again. And I know, deep down, I can't have her here. Not like this. Not with the way things are between us.

"You still need to go," I mutter, my voice thick with something I can't even name.

Her face falls for a second, but it's enough for me to see the hurt before she masks it. She steps back, as if my words physically push her away, but I don't stop her. I can't.

"Eli! We're up here. Bring a ladder," I holler, and we sit silently, waiting for help to arrive. From below, Emmanuel lets out a sharp, smugbleat.

The moment snaps.

"I wish I had never moved here."

The quiet words break the silence, and I can feel their effect on my soul. Despite what I said earlier, I can't imagine not seeing Christiane every day anymore.

I wake with a jolt,the daylight creeping through the blinds. The air feels still, like everything's waiting.

I glance out the window, expecting to see Christiane's farmhouse. By now, she'd usually be in the kitchen. But the windows are dark.

My stomach tightens.

I throw on clothes in a hurry; something is off inside me. Downstairs, the house is too quiet. There are no sounds from her barn. The animals should be awake by now.

I head outside, heart pounding, walking toward her barn. That's when I see Lucas, the kid from down the street, walking toward the feed room.

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