Page 75 of Break Her Heart
And maybe it helped that the nightmares had stopped. That when I fell asleep tangled in his arms, I didn’t wake up screaming. We both slept like the dead now, wrapped in the very thing we pretended didn’t mean anything at all.
I stepped into the small bakery, the smells of fresh-baked pastries making my stomach rumble. Adar sat in the same chair he did every week, waiting for me. He always arrived before me, always made sure it was set before I arrived—just like Mama used to. He tried to act like nothing had changed every time I saw him, but he couldn’t change his appearance.
The light hit his face in a way that showed the hollows under his eyes. His skin was pale, not from lack of sun, but from worry. The lines around his mouth had deepened, carved by too many responsibilities and too little sleep. He looked thinner, too, like the weight of the coven was eating him alive.
My heart tugged. This wasn’t the same Adar who used to drag me into snowball fights or argue with me over the best kind of bread. This was a man holding too many broken things in his hands and trying to keep them from slipping through his fingers.
He tried to smile when he saw me, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He had tried too hard to fight his way back to the man he was before, but I knew I wouldn’t truly see that part of him again until this was all over—if at all.
We ate in silence for a while. I went for the grape jelly as always and a puffy pastry while Adar barely touched his tea.
“I have a little news.”
I glanced up at him, wiping the jelly from the corner of my mouth.
“Talia found Shadow.”
I gasped, the pastry falling into my lap. “Is he okay?”
Tears welled up before I could stop them. I had tried convincing myself he was fine—that his instincts had kicked inand he was thriving somewhere wild and free. But a part of me always feared the worst.
“He’s okay,” Adar said softly. “I took him to Jonah’s for the time being. He’s safe.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard in a while.”
“Apparently, Talia never stopped looking for him.”
“She’s an angel,” I said, shaking my head with a watery smile.
Adar didn’t answer, but I caught the subtle twitch of a smile tugging at his lips, the way he looked down into his tea like it suddenly interested him.
I narrowed my eyes. “You’ve been spending time with her?”
He stiffened, eyes darting away. “Why would I?”
“Adar, you only stopped seeing her because of what we were hiding. You still care about her. Don’t lie to me.”
He picked at the rim of his mug. “It’s not about what I feel. I ended things because it wasn’t safe. I couldn’t drag her into all this.”
“I know that. So I thought—”
“Thought what?” he asked. “Have you stopped Carrow yet?”
My breath caught, jaw tightening at the sharpness of his words. Neither of us usually mentioned August. Or Carrow. We never did when we were together like this. It was as if the weight of everything that haunted our nights didn’t belong at this table. Not when time was so limited, and comfort so rare.
“We aren’t safe then,” he said before I could respond. “I’m not bringing her into this. All I’ve ever wanted to do is protect her, and that isn’t changing now.”
He leaned back, rubbing his hands together like he needed to do something with them. The silence between us stretched.
So I just nodded, biting my lip as I reached down to clean the pastry crumbs from my lap. “She makes you happy. Doesn’t that count for something?”
He exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders softening just a little. “It does. And everybody I love is always taken from me.”
With the snow melting, more people had begun to fill the streets. The air was sharp but promising, carrying the scents of fresh bread, dried herbs, and something fried in thick oil that made my mouth water. Someone was selling roasted chestnuts. I could smell the sugar glaze from across the square. A smaller version of Market had been set up at the square, their vendors shouting prices over one another in a chaotic rhythm that almost felt familiar.
I weaved between the booths, the sound of bargaining rising in waves. My fingers trailed across a bolt of deep blue velvet out of habit, and for just a second, I imagined Mama beside me, appraising the quality, arguing for a better price. Papa would’ve already handed over the coin, just to make her smile.
People stared. Some whispered. A few bowed their heads. I didn’t know what any of them truly thought, and I didn’t care. But the weight of their eyes always followed me.
