Page 53 of HEARTSTORM

Fucking Nick Crawdford.

Speak of the devil.

He was standing by the gate, acting like he owned my place—that smug look glued to his stupid face.

"You really have some fucking guts still showing up here," I said, my voice sharp but controlled.

I'm not giving him the satisfaction of watching me lose it.

He smirked, casually leaning against the gate—the only thing standing between us.

"And you still don't have the guts to open it." His face twisted with a mix of amusement and defiance.

I glared at him, refusing to back down. "I've got news for you: this is my gate, this is my house, and the ground you're stepping on is mine too."

His eyes twitched, but that nasty smile stayed. "I see that..." he sneered. "But I'm actually looking for someone who doesn't revolve around you."

He's talking about Grace.

I felt my fury rise faster—fists clenched, blood pounding, every part of me ready to snap.

"Leave," I forced out, clinging to the last thread of patience I had left.

His hands tightened around the bars instead. "You got fucking something to do with Grace disappearing from my life?!"

I shot him a mocking grin. "Your life? She wasn't even there in the first place." My voice dripping with disdain. "You're fucking pathetic." I turned on my heel, determined to end this conversation before it went any further.

"Grace and I have history," he snapped. "You can try to erase it, but it doesn't just disappear," he added, fully convinced it gave him some kind of power.

My steps faltered. I snapped around, and stepped forward, my gaze locked on his, daring him to say more.

"Stop revolving around her. It's not a warning, it's a fucking order."

"And why the hell should I take orders from you, Russell?" He growled.

He's pushing so damn hard to get a reaction out of me, but I won't give in—I won't let myself lose control.

His smirk deepened, his posture straightening, his eyes darkening. "Truth is, Maya, I got under Grace's skin long before you even got in the way," he laughed. "And deep down... she fucking liked it."

My hands clenched into fists so tight my nails dug into my palms. A chill ran down my spine.

"Stop talking. Stop talking about her," I hissed.

He wasn't telling the truth. No. He was just pushing my buttons, trying to get a reaction—trying to mess with my head.

Nick leaned in, his face lit up in satisfaction, like he sensed he'd struck a nerve.

"I'm just regretting not getting to second base with her, if you know what I mean—but there's still time for that."

That was it.

Anger burned through me, my vision blurred. Before I could stop myself, I was inches from him, breath coming in sharp bursts.

I grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the gate with a sharp thud.

His smugness cracked for a second, flickering into something else. Shock? Fear? Good.

I leaned in close, voice low, deadly.

"If you ever talk about her like that again, if you so much as lay a finger on her—I'll destroy you."

His throat bobbed against the bars. I tightened my grip.

He forced a grin. "Why did you get so worked up so easily, Russell?" He tried to play it cool, but his voice came out strained, muffled by the bars pressing into his throat.

I grinned, feeling the power shift entirely into my hands.

"I don't share what's mine, Nick." I locked eyes with him, fury burning even hotter. "Get that through your fucking head."

His grin faltered for a split second, his eyes briefly widening with surprise before narrowing with calculated calm.

And then—I fully realized what I had just said.

I shoved him back and let go, watching him stumble before regaining his stance.

I snapped my mouth shut—the weight of what I'd just revealed crashing down on me like a fucking storm.

His face twisted into something darker. Satisfied. "I'll see you and Grace at the opening this Friday."

That was a fucking threat.

I didn't have to say anything else.

The damage was already done.

He knows.

I kept my eyes on him, making sure he was leaving, then turned and walked away, cursing myself for giving him that advantage.

I stormed back into the house, my steps heavy and fueled by frustration. Nelly saw me but didn't dare say a word. I flew up the stairs and slammed my door shut before even catching my breath.

The silence of my room only made the fury inside me grow.

All I could think about was Grace.

I have no idea how to face her—not without regret clinging to every word I'd try to say.

I broke the promise I made to her. She trusted me—I shattered that. That was the worst part.

And if that wasn't enough, I also dragged us into dangerous territory. Nick knows about us now, and I can't take that back.

I was supposed to be in control—not the one unraveling.

When all I wanted was to scream, to punch something—anything—I lost it. I crashed onto the bed, face buried in the pillow, hoping to shut it all out.

How am I supposed to fix this and earn forgiveness?

All because I had to claim what was mine.

~

I wasn't ready for how empty I'd feel.

After spending the remaining morning in bed, I got up and went to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face.

I gripped the sink, hoping the water could drown out the thoughts still screaming inside me. It didn't.

I headed downstairs and checked my phone, realizing it was almost time for Grace to be back from work.

"Maya," Nelly's concerned voice woke me from my daze. "Do you need something?"

"The solution to what's wrong inside me," I said as if it were the simplest request in the world.

I sat on the stool as Nelly kept observing me, like she already knew what I wasn't saying.

"Every time I try to handle something, I screw it up." I muttered, letting out a frustrated sigh.

"That's not true, Maya. You just don't always have to do it on your own," she said softly.

Nelly was right, but I've been handling everything on my own since I was nine, ever since Mom died. It's not like I ever learned to do it any other way.

At that exact moment, the door opened, and Grace walked in with the most beautiful smile.

"Hiii!" she sang, her voice light and sweet.

My tense expression softened the second she walked in and pressed a kiss to my cheek, her smile doing most of the work.

I took her hand in mine as if it was the only thing steady enough to hold me together.

"How'd it go, beautiful? That smile's saying it went pretty well." I kept my tone calm, even if my chest was anything but.

Grace nodded, her smile widening. "Way better than I expected. I'm really happy."

Nelly complimented her, and I swallowed the lump in my throat and said, "I had no doubt, baby."

Grace practically started bouncing in place, unable to keep still. "I actually have a surprise for you, Maya."

"What is it?" I asked.

My eyes locked on hers as I noticed she was hiding something behind her arm. I quickly moved to sneak a peek, but she laughed and pulled back, teasing me.

"Okay! Okay!" she exclaimed playfully, sensing my frustration.

When she finally pulled it out, it was a single rose, its deep royal blue petals catching the light as she held it out to me.

My breath caught for a second, my mind still processing the fact that Grace—my Grace, was standing here, giving me something so beautiful after everything she still didn't know.

I reached out, taking the rose from her hand. "Grace..." I whispered, voice trembling more than I intended, my emotions rushing to the surface all at once.

She smiled. "Do you like it?"

"I love it, baby. Thank you," I replied, gently squeezing her hand and pulling her onto my lap.

Nelly shot me a look and ran into the kitchen, probably to avoid witnessing my defeat.

"I just wanted to thank you for the white rose you gave me, and this one really made me think of you," Grace whispered in my ear.

My fingers traced soft patterns on her back. "It means more than you think."

Her lips crushed into mine—warm and soft, her fingers stroking my hair. I felt my walls start to crumble, my heart reacting before my mind could catch up.

"Do you want to eat something?" I whispered against her lips.

"Yes, that would be good," she said.

I had various types of sandwiches with fries and fruit prepared in the kitchen and brought them into Grace's room while we settled on her bed.

"Tell me everything, love," I said as she calmly took a bite of her sandwich.

Grace smiled, still filled with the excitement of the day. She said the museum gave her a tour, showed her around, and even let her help with some exhibits. I can tell she loved every second of it. She talked with passion and enthusiasm about every detail.

Listening to her, a sharp ache settled in my chest. I was so damn happy for her—but with every word, the weight of guilt pressed down even harder.

The last thing I wanted was to ruin her happiness.

I knew I'd already done something that could take it all away.

"And that's pretty much it," she concluded, finishing her sandwich.

"I'm proud of you, Grace," I said.

I squeezed her hand tight, giving her all my support and fighting my emotions back.

"You're not eating, Maya," she pointed out, her blue eyes gently urging me.

"You're right," I murmured, looking at all

the food still in front of me. "I got too caught up in your story."

I wasn't hungry at all, but I ate anyway without a single complaint. After that, we brushed our teeth, and soon we were curled up together in the bed. I wrapped my arms around her waist, running my fingers through her hair as she snuggled into me.

"Grace..." I let out a sigh, watching her eyes trail over my face. "I just want you to be happy," I said. "You know that, right? Before you, nothing ever felt like this."

"You make me happy, Maya," she whispered, resting her head on my shoulder.

I thought my heart was going to fucking burst any second.

It's now or never.

I can't wait any longer.

If only I had the courage to speak.

My throat felt tight—constricted, like it was closing off.

I sighed deeply.

Grace suddenly looked up at me, narrowed her eyes, and spoke.

"Did anything happen while I was gone?"

I paused.

The longest fucking pause.

"No," I said, smiling. "Nothing. Everything's fine."

She looked at me for a moment, then nodded and leaned back against my chest.

There was no way I could let it slip. Couldn't ruin her moment.

I'd rather carry my own guilt than see her lose what she had.

I will take the risk of it. Like I always do.

Nick Crawford himself said it at the end. He's going to wait until the opening—whatever twisted plan he's got in mind.

He really thinks I'll let him lay a hand on what's mine and ruin it. Pathetic.

"Maya?" Grace's soft voice pulled me out of my thoughts. My name, so gentle, made me shiver.

She moved a little closer, almost as if seeking reassurance, an answer. Her fingers hesitantly slipped under my top. My body responding to her touch. She paused, looking at me with a questioning face.

I crushed my lips against hers—not planned, but the result of an inner battle I'd lost. In that moment, I didn't want to fight anymore.

I just wanted her. Us.

Her fingers slowly found their way to my chest, tingling my skin as she hovered her hand on my bra while I planted soft kisses along her neckline.

I slipped off my top and settled over her, trailing kisses from her neck up to the lobe of her ear, making her let out a breathy moan.

"Help me with mine," Grace whispered in my ear.

I slowly unbuttoned her shirt and bra, noticing her fingers trembling slightly, even though it wasn't the first time I'd seen her bare skin.

"I love you so much," I said, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

"I love you too," she whispered, moving closer and pressing a soft kiss to my lips.

It was like a wave of warmth and longing crashing over me.

My hands slid over her bare skin, fingers massaging her breast. I captured her nipple between my lips, planting slow, hungry kisses before sucking gently, making her tremble beneath me.

"Your skin tastes damn good," I murmured.

More moans escaped from her lips, this time louder and breathless.

It made me ache for more, wanting to give her all she wanted.

I pulled the sheets over us, hiding underneath as we broke into silly, teasing laughter.

Our fingers slid naturally beneath each other's panties, our eyes locked in a silent, burning conversation.

"Oh, shit, yes, Maya—" Grace moaned my name, and it sounded amazing.

"Fuck," I breathed out as her touch pressed in closer, moving faster for me. "Yes, baby, you feel so good."

Our wet fingers didn't pause for a second—if anything, they moved urgently, up and down, teasing, curling. Our breathless whimpering pushed us deeper, faster.

"I want you all for me—all the time, Grace," I said between moans.

"Yes, baby, I'm here," she breathed.

I locked eyes with her. "Promise me you're mine—I need to hear you say it, Grace."

I just need her to reassure me, like my heart can't breathe without it.

She held my gaze. "I'm yours, Maya," she said, meaning it.

In that moment, everything slipped away from me: the tension, the fear, the unspoken words—my heart was only focused on her.

With a steady rhythm, our bodies arched in sync with every touch—rising and falling together as we crashed against the edge of pleasure.

Grace's face flushed, my breath coming uneven and shaky as our bodies melted in a tired but satisfied embrace.

I held her tight, feeling the warmth of her skin against mine, anchoring me to this moment.

Grace fell asleep like that—wrapped in me.

But I stayed awake.

Staring at the ceiling.

Listening to her calm breathing.

As if the sound alone could silence what was still gnawing at my chest.