Page 72 of Fractured Devotion
Just wanted to make sure you got home safe.
I bite my lip, staring at the simple text and feeling strangely vulnerable. Is this genuine concern or another layer to a game I can’t yet comprehend?
I did. Thank you, Kade.
My reply feels inadequate, clipped, and cautious. Yet, anything more feels dangerously exposing.
Seconds tick by, each one drawn out and heavy, before another message vibrates gently in my palm.
Good. Try to get some sleep, Celeste. You’re not alone.
His words, carefully chosen, send a chill down my spine that isn’t entirely unpleasant. I let the phone rest against my chest, the gentle warmth radiating from it oddly comforting. Despite my lingering suspicions, his reassurance wraps around me, easing the restless tension just enough for sleep to claim me.
The morning sun finds me groggy and reluctant. I drag myself from the tangled sheets, stretching out sore muscles, my limbs heavy as lead. The routine of showering, dressing, and sipping bitter coffee unfolds mechanically, my thoughts continuously drifting back to the unsettling events of yesterday and Kade’s unsettling kindness.
The clinic feels oppressively sterile when I arrive, the white walls and muted sounds amplifying my unease. I sit behind my desk, my fingers hovering aimlessly over the keyboard, barely registering the emails that pile up, unread. The weight of unseen eyes, imagined or real, presses on my shoulders, oppressive and heavy.
A soft knock startles me, and I look up sharply, my heart fluttering wildly.
Alec stands in the doorway, his expression gentle but lined with concern. “Morning,” he says cautiously, stepping inside when I offer a hesitant nod. “You look exhausted. Rough night?”
“You could say that,” I respond vaguely, forcing a weak smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. I’m torn, tempted to share my unease, yet reluctant to further expose my vulnerabilities.
He sits carefully, observing me with that steady, thoughtful gaze I’ve always found both comforting and unnerving. “Celeste, something’s off. You’re not yourself.”
I inhale slowly, gathering the courage to speak plainly. “Have you noticed anything strange lately? People acting differently, unusual behaviors around here?”
He leans forward slightly, his voice lowering to a concerned whisper. “Like what?”
“Just… odd occurrences,” I begin hesitantly, unsure how much to divulge. “Things moved slightly in my apartment, a feeling of being watched… maybe I’m losing my mind.”
He reaches out instinctively, touching my hand lightly, reassuringly. “You’re not losing your mind, Celeste. Trust your instincts. Have you reported this?”
“No,” I admit, pulling my hand back slightly.
Alec’s expression darkens thoughtfully. “Maybe we should start being more cautious, more observant. I’ll keep my eyes open. We’ll figure this out together.”
I nod slowly, gratitude washing over me. But his protective stance can’t entirely dispel the lingering uncertainty still fluttering inside my chest.
The day drags on sluggishly, every minute stretching unbearably. Each passing hour leaves me feeling more unsettled, anxiety twisting tighter inside me. By the time the sky outside darkens, fatigue has nestled deep into my bones.
I step outside into the evening air, breathing deeply and feeling slightly calmer beneath the cool twilight. As I turn toward home, a shadow separates itself from the wall, stepping closer with intent purpose.
“Celeste,” the familiar voice calls softly. My heartbeat quickens once more, this time laced with something more complicated than fear.
“Kade,” I respond softly, turning slowly to face him and feeling the tentative threads of trust pull tighter. “Are you following me now?”
He chuckles softly, almost to himself, the sound warm enough to loosen the tension in my chest. “Would you hate me if I said I was?”
“Probably,” I respond with more bravado than I feel, my voice barely louder than a whisper.
“I saw you leaving,” he explains gently, stepping closer but carefully keeping a respectful distance. “You looked worried again. Couldn’t help myself.”
The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard, pulling at defenses that feel increasingly fragile. “I appreciate the concern, Kade, but…”
“But?” he prompts, his voice barely louder than the soft breeze rustling around us.
“But I don’t understand why,” I whisper, feeling my defenses lower slightly to reveal a vulnerability that I rarely allow. “Why do you care?”
