Genevieve's POV
I pushed my chair back from the table, the legs scraping harshly against the stone floor. Benedict's eyes tracked my movement, but I couldn't bring myself to acknowledge his gaze. Not when my heart was already fracturing into pieces.
Each step toward Kaelen felt like walking through quicksand. I stopped just close enough to catch the scent of dirt and sweat radiating from his skin, close enough to see moisture gathering at his hairline. The familiar pull of his presence made my chest ache.
"What do you need?" The question slipped out steadier than I felt inside.
My traitorous heart hammered against my ribs, remembering what it used to feel like when he looked at me with anything other than suspicion. When I mattered to him. When helping him felt like breathing.
