Chapter 153: Heartbeats

Words : 1349 Updated : Sep 17th, 2025

Chapter 153: Heartbeats Jacob~ The moment Gloria and Susan ran off, their heels clacking against the sidewalk like retreating gunfire, I turned my gaze back to Easter. She hadn’t moved. She just stood there. Still as stone. Her pale skin was lit by the orange hue of the streetlight above, but her eyes—Gods, her eyes—those wide green oceans were swimming in unshed tears, frozen in some storm I couldn’t touch. Her arms hung limp at her sides, fingers curled like she’d forgotten how to unclench them. I took a single step toward her, then another. Slowly. Gently. Like she was a fawn that might dart at the sound of a leaf. "Easter," I whispered. My voice sounded strange to my own ears. Too soft. Too unsure. She flinched. Just slightly. I was in front of her now, close enough to see the trembling in her lower lip. Close enough to feel the panic coming off her in waves. I lifted my hand and brushed a curl from her cheek. She didn’t pull away—but she didn’t lean in either. "She used to say things like that all the time," she finally said. Her voice cracked. "Susan. The way she said my name... like it tasted bitter. Like I was already damned." "I know," I murmured. "I saw it." Tears slid down her cheeks, tracing paths of old wounds. "My parents used to believe her." That shattered something in me. Without thinking, I pulled her into my arms. She didn’t resist. She folded into me like she belonged there, like the universe had always intended it. Her forehead rested against my chest, and I could feel her shaking—small, violent tremors that reminded me of a storm trapped in a fragile shell. I wrapped both arms around her tighter and whispered, "You are not what they said you were. You were never that girl." Her fists clutched my shirt. Her breath hitched against my chest. "I don’t want to cry in front of you," she whispered, sounding ashamed. "I don’t want to be weak." "Too late," I said with a small grin she couldn’t see. "You already ugly-cried into my shirt. Completely ruined my aesthetic." She let out a choked laugh that turned into another sob, and I laughed softly, resting my chin on top of her head. "You’re not weak. You’re surviving." A pause. Then, in a much smaller voice, she said, "Why do you always make me feel safe?" I closed my eyes, exhaled slowly. That question—so simple, so dangerous. "I don’t know," I lied. Truth was... I knew. From the first time Natalie asked me to search for her, I got pulled in by those tired eyes and that broken smile, something inside me shifted. A ripple in the ancient calm of my soul. I pulled back just enough to see her face. The tears had stopped, but her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were red. She looked like a fallen star. Not broken—just waiting to shine again. Without thinking, I leaned in and pressed my lips to her forehead. She gasped softly, but didn’t move. I kissed her cheeks next, slow and lingering. And then... I hovered, just an inch above her lips. I could feel her breath—fast, shallow, and unsteady. Her heartbeat thundered in her chest like it was trying to escape. So did mine. Gods help me, I wanted her. I wanted to kiss her until the ghosts disappeared. But I couldn’t. I pulled back fast—too fast. Like I’d touched lightning. My breath hitched as the realization of how close I’d gotten sank in. Her skin still lingered on my lips. "Sorry," I said, my voice low, rough. I didn’t meet her eyes. Couldn’t. Easter blinked up at me, wide-eyed. Her lips parted slightly, her cheeks flushed. She looked... startled. Fragile. Like even the wrong breath from me might shatter her. "I... it’s okay," she whispered, but it wasn’t really an answer. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and dropped her gaze to the floor like it had secrets she needed to memorize. "I—uh—we should go," I stammered, suddenly very aware of everything. My heartbeat. Her scent. The taste of her skin on my lips. With a snap of my fingers, I teleported us into my car—because apparently, driving was still a thing I did to feel normal. She blinked in confusion, her breath fogging up the window beside her. I gripped the wheel too tightly. "Seatbelt," I muttered. She clipped it in without a word. Her hands fidgeted in her lap. I started the car, the engine growling to life. We sat in the low amber glow of the dashboard lights, neither of us saying a word. Just breathing. Thinking. It wasn’t until we hit the road that she finally spoke, only a whisper, "Do you always teleport when you get uncomfortable?" My knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. "No," I said flatly. "Oh," she said softly, almost to herself. Another long pause. "I mean," she added quickly, "not that I thought you were going to... you know. It just... felt like something." I exhaled slowly, keeping my eyes on the road. "It wasn’t." "Right. Of course not." I could hear her fiddling with the hem of her sleeve, twisting the fabric between her fingers. "I was crying," she added, like she needed to explain it away. "I probably looked ridiculous. That’s all it was. You were just trying to help." "Exactly," I said. Too fast. She nodded once, staring out the window. "Yeah." But the silence that followed didn’t settle. It buzzed. Hummed. Like static in the air before a storm. I risked a glance at her. Her profile was delicate, chin resting against the window, eyes distant. The flush in her cheeks hadn’t faded. She caught me looking. I snapped my gaze forward again. "You sighed," she said quietly. "I didn’t," I muttered. "You kind of did." "I didn’t." Another beat. "Okay," she said, so softly I almost didn’t hear her. Her voice wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t sharp or smug. It was just... quiet. Like she didn’t want to push. Like she was afraid of making something fragile crumble. And somehow, that made it harder to breathe. The rest of the drive passed in fragments—her occasional humming under her breath, me gripping the wheel like it owed me something, and a thousand things I wanted to say but didn’t. When we finally pulled into the garage, I cut the engine and sat there for a second, the silence back and louder than ever. I didn’t say anything. Just touched her shoulder gently and teleported us out again. We landed softly in the hallway of Zane’s house in Vareth. The familiar warmth of the place wrapped around us. Somewhere distant, I heard Alex’s soft snore. I glanced at her, but she wasn’t looking at me. Her eyes were on the floor again, arms folded around herself. "Come on," I said quietly. "Let’s get you to bed." She nodded and followed me down the hallway, our footsteps barely making a sound against the marble floors. At her door, I paused. Easter turned to face me, her expression sad, fingers still toying with the edge of her sleeve. I cleared my throat, shifting awkwardly. "Hey," I said softly, "don’t think too much about what those women said, okay?" Her eyes flickered. "They’re ghosts. Bitter ones. And you? You’re alive. You’re free. Don’t let them haunt you." She nodded slowly. I stepped closer, brushed a strand of hair from her face. Then, without overthinking, I leaned in and kissed her cheek. She froze. "Goodnight, Easter," I whispered. And then I turned, walking away like my heart wasn’t about to break out of my ribcage and dance down the hallway like a drunk ballerina. Every step away from her door felt like lifting boulders. And when I reached the end of the hall, I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. Mother help me. She’s going to be the death of me. And I think I might just let her.

Chapter 153: Heartbeats

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