Page 73 of Fractured Devotion
He studies me for a moment, his gaze deep and intense beneath the dimming sky. “Because sometimes, even I can’t ignore someone who so clearly needs help.”
I swallow, my throat suddenly tight, my heart hammering erratically. “Do you really want to help, Kade? Or is there something else you’re after?”
He pauses, the air thickening between us with unspoken meaning. Finally, he speaks, his voice steady and soft and loaded with a sincerity that I find both terrifying and irresistible. “Maybe a little of both, Celeste. I’m helping you because I genuinely care, and I want to be near you because you’re becoming important to me,” he clarifies, his voice steady and soft, sincerity flickering in his eyes. “But I promise, my intentions are good.”
I stare at him, torn, desperate to believe him yet terrified to trust. After a long moment, I offer a faint nod, acceptingthis fragile truce, aware of the dangerous, uncertain path now stretching between us.
We walk together in silence, the soft crunch of our footsteps on the pavement the only sound between us. Streetlights flicker above, their warm light casting shifting shadows over the sidewalk. Kade glances at me occasionally, his expression unreadable but not unkind.
“Are you hungry?” he asks suddenly, his voice casual but careful. “There’s a small diner not far from here. It’s open late, and it’s private.”
I hesitate. “Now?”
“Only if you want to,” he says quickly, his palms open, as though showing he has nothing to hide.
The idea of food turns my stomach, but part of me doesn’t want to go home just yet. Not to the silence. Not to the ghosts.
“Okay,” I say. “Just for a little while.”
He smiles, and something shifts in his gaze—a flicker of relief, maybe. Or something else I don’t want to examine too closely.
The diner is nearly empty when we arrive, the warm glow inside a small reprieve from the cold edge of night. We slide into a booth near the window, the vinyl squeaking beneath us. The waitress appears like clockwork, setting down two menus with practiced ease.
I barely look at mine. “You come here often?” I ask, surprising myself.
“Sometimes,” he says, watching me instead of the menu. “When I need to think.”
I nod slowly, fiddling with the edge of the napkin in my lap. “You always seem like you’re thinking.”
He laughs softly. “Am I that obvious?”
I meet his eyes then, really meet them, and something dangerous and gentle stares back at me.
“You feel like a riddle,” I whisper.
“And you feel like the only one I’ve ever wanted to solve,” he replies.
The silence that follows is heavy with something unspoken, but not unwelcome. I look away first, not because I’m afraid but because I’m not sure what it means if I’m not.
I don’t know how long we sit like that, the diner lights humming faintly above us and casting soft halos on the worn table. Kade breaks the silence first, his fingers tapping idly against the side of his water glass.
“You know,” he says after a pause, his tone unforced but thoughtful, his fingers drumming lightly against the glass, “I’ve passed your block a few times lately. I didn’t actually realize it was your place until yesterday.”
I tilt my head slightly, curious. “And?”
He shifts his gaze toward the window, the corner of his mouth tilting in something thoughtful, maybe amused. “Remember that van we talked about some time ago? The one by the bakery?”
I glance up, tension flickering in my chest. “Yeah. The one you said gave you the creeps, like it was watching you.”
He nods, his tone still light, though his eyes are a little sharper now. “I noticed it’s gone. Just… vanished. I haven’t seen it for a few days now.”
I tighten my grip on the mug. “I noticed too. It was always there. Until it wasn’t.”
Kade turns his full attention on me then, his voice lower, more cautious. “It was parked closer to your building than mine. Always. I just didn’t say it, because I didn’t know your exact building then.”
His jaw ticks, a flicker of conflict behind his gaze. “I didn’t want to scare you before I was sure.”
I breathe out slowly, trying to steady the cold knot forming in my gut. “Well, now I’m scared.”
