Heartprints in the Void

Chapter ⊰ 8 ⊱ Some Things Never Change



I exhale deeply, my heavy eyelids flickering open as I groan at the pounding in my head. *Where am I..?*

I turn my head to the side, briefly eyeing the pair of thick, black drapes blocking the sunlight from the large windows on the balcony set of double doors at the far end of the room. The light that creeps between the pair is just enough to illuminate the unfamiliar room, and it only makes me uneasy.

My eyebrows furrow as I push my elbows back, helping myself sit up on the unfamiliar king size bed that I lay on. My gaze falls to my lap, relieved to see that I'm fully-clothed in the same clothes that I threw on last night, minus my shoes. *What happened..?*

It's foggy for a moment, the recollection of the events that took place at the bar slowly coming back in pieces like flashes from a heavy lightning storm.

*Oh, my God...I was drugged.*

As disoriented as I am, I'm oddly not anxious. I'm too fatigued to feel anxious.

The dryness in my mouth and irritation from my contact lenses nearly goes unnoticed as I gaze over the room. The heavy gray walls that match the carpet complement the bedspread nicely. The cream colored lamps on each of the dark gray nightstands tie the room together, and again, I wonder...

*Where the hell am I?*

A shaky breath parts my lips as I shift to the edge of the bed, sliding my legs off over the edge before straightening on my feet. Hesitantly, I move to the door, pulling it open only to find an empty hallway. The smell of fresh coffee meets my senses, my heart skipping a beat as I realize that I am probably not alone in this unfamiliar house.

*If they wanted to hurt me, they had every chance to. So...why didn't they..?*

I draw my lip between my teeth, nibbling gently as I follow the scent to the top of a dark gray staircase with metal rails that lead down to a window-filled kitchen. My eyes gloss over the counters, landing on the back of an all-too familiar man. *Cade?*

Standing in gray sweats and a shirtless torso, my heart skips a beat as I watch his muscles ripple with even the slightest movement that he makes. In one swift motion, he pours a cup of coffee and reaches for his phone, tapping on the screen to pause whatever it is that he's listening to.

"Are you always so careless?"

The sound of his voice makes a shiver shoot down the base of my spine.

*He saved me...*

I watch as he adds a tablespoon of sugar and coffee creamer to the cup, turning to face me in the next moment. He lifts his gaze to meet my own, moving to the counter across from himself and setting the coffee down before sliding it toward

me.

*He remembers how I like my coffee...*

I exhale sharply, lowering my gaze to the stairs as I reluctantly descend them. It's only when I near the counter that I stop just a couple of feet short from it, emitting a humorless chuckle in my attempt to mask my embarrassment.

The dryness in my mouth and throat doesn't help, and my husky voice is just above a whisper as I ask, "What were you doing at that parking lot?"

He doesn't answer immediately, my gaze lifting to meet his own.

"I go to that bar every Friday evening," he finally says. "I was sitting at a table behind where you sat, and I watched that asshole follow you out."

*Oh...*

I don't realize that I'm holding my breath until I decide to reach for the cup of coffee that he set down for me. "Thank you," I mutter into the cup before taking a small sip.

He eyes me for a moment longer, sighing as he shakes his head disappointingly. There's a hint of irritation in his voice as he turns to reach for a cup for himself, rhetorically asking, "Still don't know how to say no, huh?" *What am I supposed to say to that?*

My heart is racing, and while I try to pretend that I'm not utterly overwhelmed by my emotions, I can't stop my mind from wondering what's going through his mind. As he sips on his coffee, I can't help but feel guilty, so I apologize, "I'm sorry...for ruining your night."

His muscles visibly tense, and he sets his cup back down on the counter aggressively, turning to face me once more. "Then make smarter choices, Elysian. What would you have done if I hadn't been there?" If it weren't clear on his face, his voice evidently carries his frustration.

I shake my head, tears welling my eyes as my voice quavers, "I-I don't know." The bridge of my nose stings, and before I can so much as attempt to stop them, hot tears run down my cheeks and a soft sob breaks from my lips. Setting my cup back down on the counter, I desperately try to recompose myself.

*Why am I crying?! Why am I so emotional?!*

His expression softens slightly, a flicker of concern in his eyes. "It's the drugs." He sighs, his voice gentler as he tells me, "You should feel a lot more like yourself tomorrow."

*Great. This is perfect.*

In the next moment, he motions at the counter chairs, telling me, "Sit down and finish your coffee. I'll make you some breakfast."

At least that part hasn't changed: he's as authoritative as ever. And as always, he's right.

I still don't know how to say no.

Without a word, I hop onto the chair and drink my coffee in silence as he puts together a couple of plates with scrambled eggs, bacon, and a plain bagel with strawberry cream cheese spread. He sets them down on the counter, one in front of me and one in front of the empty chair next to me.

All the while, I can't help but look at him.

It's incredible how much muscle mass you can put on over the course of three years. If I didn't know him, I would undoubtedly believe that he's on steroids, and I'd be lying to myself if I told myself that the thought of touching him again doesn't make me want to...

*Daddy..?*

...

*No! Stop that!*

"Your shoes are by the door, next to the coffee table where I put your phone and keys," he suddenly says as he lowers himself on the chair beside me. "I'll drive you to your car after you're finished eating."

*Why is he being so nice to me all of a sudden?*

I can't help but wonder if the sudden change in his attitude toward me has anything to do with pity, but I don't question it. I don't want to know. I would rather things go back to how they were before last night. Things are easier that way. I enjoy the sweet and savory breakfast, occasionally looking at him through the corner of my eye. "Thank you," I say softly as I place the fork down on the plate.

"You said that already," he mutters as he straightens on his feet. He reaches for my plate and mug, taking it with him to the sink where he sets it down. *And...he's back.*

Not that it's not wonderfully pleasant to be around him, but I'd like not to waste any more of his time, telling him sincerely, "You don't have to drive me to my car. You've done enough for me. I can call for a ride." Without another word, I head for the door across the room, walking through the beautifully decorated living room with white, leather sofas. It reminds me of his oceanside condo from back when we lived in Florida.

Just like he said I would, I find my shoes positioned perfectly next to the door and my keys and phone on the tall, marble coffee table. I'm quick, slipping into my loosely tied sneakers and picking my belongings off of the table.

I reach for the door handle, the cold metal biting into my skin as I press my thumb against the latch. Before I can pull the door open, Cade's arm shoots out from behind me, slamming it shut. My body jolts, my heart leaping into my throat as I feel the heat of his body against my back.

He lowers himself to me, his breath fanning my ear. "Are you walking out on me again, Elysian?"

A shaky breath parts my lips, the hair on the back of my neck standing on its ends. "I never walked out on you, Cade..." My voice falters, betraying me.

"Don't lie to me." His tone is aggressive, reminding me as though I could ever forget, "I told you a long time ago never to walk away from me again. Are you always so careless?"

I try to swallow, but my throat is too tight. "I'm sorry," I manage, the words barely audible.

"You said that already," he challenges me, warning me to choose my next words carefully.

But I can't. I can't think. I can't move. As his grip on the door tightens, I realize he's not *really* giving me a choice.

"I said I'm driving you, so sit down and wait for me while I put a shirt on," he demands.

In the next moment, he drops his hand from the door and steps away from me. With my heart pounding in my chest, I turn to look at him, watching him as he walks down the same direction we came from and up the stairs.

I stand here for a moment, trying to steady my breathing. My mind races with a million thoughts that I can't seem to pinpoint and emotions that conflict one another. I know I should probably leave while I get the chance, but I can't help but wonder if I'll make matters worse.

Actually, no. I *know* I'll make matters worse, because if I know anything about him is that he can't stand it when people walk away from him-especially when I used to.

*Sit. I'll just sit.*

Slowly, I make my way back to the living room, lowering myself onto one of the white leather sofas. I fidget with my hands in my lap, my nerves on edge as I wait for him to come back.


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