Heartprints in the Void
⊰ 10 ⊱ Love and Trust

The soft glow of my bedside lamp casts a warm light across the pages of my book, but the words blur together, my mind too preoccupied with the events of the day to focus on the story in front of me. The sound of running water from the en- suite bathroom has stopped, and I can hear Cade moving around, the familiar routine of his nightly shower coming to an end.

I shift slightly, the crisp sheets rustling beneath me. The faint scent of spearmint from his body lotion mingles with the fresh, clean smell drifting from the bathroom. Despite the comfort of our bed, I can't shake the tension that's been building between us.

The bathroom door opens with a soft click, releasing a cloud of steam that briefly fogs the mirror on our dresser. I keep my eyes fixed on my book, pretending to be engrossed in its pages. From my peripheral vision, I see Cade moving around the room, the soft pad of his bare feet on the plush carpet barely audible. He pulls the drawer open, the sound of fabric rustling as he retrieves a pair of boxer briefs.

I try to focus on the words in front of me, but my mind keeps drifting.

*What if my need for answers only drives a bigger wedge between us?*

...

*Is it even worth it?*

The doubt gnaws at me, making my stomach churn.

The bed dips as Cade sits on the edge, and I can feel his eyes on me. Still, I don't look up, unsure of what I'll see in his face anger? Frustration? Or worse, indifference? "Ely," he says, his voice low and tentative.

I hum in response, still not meeting his gaze. My fingers tighten on the book, the pages crinkling slightly under the pressure.

With a gentle movement, Cade reaches out and takes the book from my hands, his fingers brushing against mine as he sets it on the nightstand. The loss of my shield makes me feel suddenly vulnerable, and I finally look up at him.

His hair is still damp from the shower, dark strands sticking to his forehead. His blue eyes, so warm and inviting, are clouded with concern and something else regret, maybe?

"We should talk," he says, his voice firm but not unkind.

I nod, sitting up straighter and crossing my legs beneath me. "Yeah, we should."

Cade runs a hand through his hair, droplets of water falling onto his bare shoulders. "Look, about earlier... I shouldn't have blown up like that. It's just..." He pauses, seeming to search for the right words. "It's just what?" I prompt softly.

He sighs, his shoulder slumping slightly. "The thought of you going off on your own, chasing after answers about my father... I don't like it, Ely."

His admission catches me off guard. "Why?" I ask, leaning forward slightly.

"Because every time we've been apart, something's gone wrong," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't shake the feeling that if I let you go, I might lose you again."

*Oh, Cade.*

I reach out, taking his hand in mine, his fingers instinctively intertwining with mine. "Cade, I'm not going anywhere. Not really. I just need answers. Don't you want to know the truth about what happened?"

He nods slowly, his thumb tracing absent patterns on the back of my hand. "I do," he admits. "But what if the truth is worse than not knowing?"

I consider his words, understanding his fear. The truth may have the power to change everything, maybe even put a bigger target on my back. But the alternative-not knowing what exactly it is that we're up against-seems equally daunting if not more so.

"I can't live my life afraid of the truth," I say. "Even not knowing hasn't kept me safe. And maybe if I can convince my aunt to tell me what happened, we'll figure out a way to get David out of our lives for good." Cade's expression softens briefly, but then his brow furrows. "You don't want me to come with you, do you?"

*Not if I want her to talk.*

I shake my head hesitantly, afraid that he'll retreat. "If she wouldn't even talk to me about this over the phone, how do you think she'd react if you showed up? You may be my husband, but you're still your father's son. It might scare her off completely."

He looks conflicted, uneasy, but nods, acknowledging that I'm right. Then he leans in, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "You stay in touch with me the whole time, alright? And if anything feels off, you come straight home."

I don't hesitate, my chest swelling with gratitude for the trust that he's placing in me. "Deal," I say, managing a small smile.

For a moment, we merely sit there, our foreheads pressed together, the air between us lighter than it's been all day. Then, almost simultaneously, we lean towards each other and our lips meet in a soft, tentative kiss. It's gentle at first, a reaffirmation of our love and commitment. But then he parts his lips, his tongue brushing against my lip and the kiss deepens.

I bring my hands up to cup his face, feeling the roughness of his evening stubble against my palms. His arms wrap around me, pulling me closer until I'm practically in his lap. The scent of his soap envelops me.

We break apart, both slightly breathless. Cade rests his forehead against mine once more, his eyes closed. "I love you," he murmurs. "You know that, right?"

"I know," I whisper back. "I love you too."

Slowly, as if giving me time to pull away if I want to, he gently lowers me onto the bed. His body hovers over mine, his weight supported on his forearms on either side of my head. For a moment, he merely looks at me, the look in his eyes darkened in the dim light of the bedside lamp.

I reach up, running my fingers through his damp hair, pushing it back from his forehead. Cade leans into my touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When he opens them again, the intensity of his gaze makes my breath hitch in my throat.

Then he's kissing me again, his lips on my neck, his hands skimming down my sides as if he's relearning my body. His lips follow the path of his touch, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake as he strips me down to nothing. I arch into him, my own hands running down his muscular back.

Our movements are unhurried, tender. It's not just physical intimacy we're sharing, but an emotional reconnection. Every touch, every kiss is an unspoken promise.

As we move together, my hips meeting his with each thrust, our soft moans and groans of pleasure in the air, the world outside our bedroom fades away. There's only us, our mingled breaths, the warmth of skin on skin, and the overwhelming sense of belonging.

*This is worth everything.*