Sweet Hatred
Chapter 164: secrets

Chapter 164: secrets

My heart skipped. I hated that it did. But I grabbed a sweater anyway and left the apartment without telling anyone.

The second I stepped out, I saw him.

Kael. Leaning against his black car like a goddamn movie still. "He was dressed in all black, a coat that gave him that dangerous edge, and as always his shirt tailored to hug the lines of his chest and arms.

His slacks sat low on his hips, perfectly fitted. He looked dangerous, composed, like he knew the effect he had. He looked better. Healthier. More in control. Like the chaos hadn’t eaten him alive the way it had me.

I froze for a second. Just stood there on the sidewalk, staring at him like I was seeing a ghost.

And then I remembered.

The night after he had disappeared for two weeks and came back like a storm, pulling up beside me in the middle of the night like he hadn’t left me losing my mind. I’d been so angry, so relieved, so torn between slapping him and kissing him.

But now?

Now, I just wanted to kiss him.

I took a shaky step forward, heart pounding. "Hey," I said, trying to sound casual. "How have you—"

Kael didn’t let me finish.

He pushed off the car, closed the space between us, and grabbed my face like he couldn’t bear another second of distance. And then his mouth was on mine... hot, rough, desperate. He kissed me like he was drinking in every second we’d lost. Like my lips were the only thing tethering him to this world.

And God, I let him.

I melted into it. Into him. Into the only place that ever felt like peace. My hands curled into his shirt, knuckles white with the force of holding on, and I kissed him back like maybe I didn’t care what falling meant anymore.

if this was a mistake, it was the only one that made me feel alive.

We stood there for a few seconds as Kael kissed me like he knew. Like he’d read my mind.

Because I had said it. In my head. That I just wanted to kiss him.

Did he hear me? The thought was stupid... ridiculous even, but Kael Roman had a way of doing that. Of reaching into places I kept locked and dragging out the parts of me I didn’t want anyone to touch.

My hand went to his jaw, curling against his skin like muscle memory. Then I reached up and tugged at his hair, just enough to force him to break the kiss. His breath was warm, his green eyes hooded, and my heart was a fucking traitor, thundering in my chest like it wanted to leap into his arms and never look back.

I frowned up at him anyway.

"Is kissing the only thing you know how to do asides from getting on my nerves?"

He smirked—smirked—and the bastard looked so damn good doing it, I wanted to punch him. Or kiss him again. Or both. Ugh.

"It’s my greatest and most used weapon," he murmured, voice low and playful.

I clicked my tongue and muttered, "You’re going to piss me off."

But the heaviness in my chest, the one that had been weighing me down for weeks, felt suddenly... absent.

It was like he cracked something open in me with that kiss. Not fixed. Not healed. Just... lighter.

God, can he actually read minds? I squinted at him in suspicion. Because the timing was too damn perfect.

As if sensing my thoughts again, Kael chuckled and ran his fingers through my hair, gently brushing it away from my face while I scowled at him like I didn’t just want to melt in his arms.

His thumb grazed my temple. "How are you?"

I exhaled slowly. "Itching to resume work, honestly."

"You can take your time, I’ll be waiting," he said, a little too softly.

I arched a brow. "Aren’t you my boss? Shouldn’t you be stricter with me or something? You’ve been so nice to me I forgot everyone basically sees you as a dictator at HQ."

He leaned in slightly, eyes flicking to my lips before sliding back to mine. "I can be stricter," he said, voice dropping an octave as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, "but some conditions need to be met and the first is you taking care of yourself."

Tch. He was so... effortlessly charming.

I turned my face away before he could see the heat climbing up my cheeks. But he probably already did. He always did.

I masked it with a quick shift in tone. "Why’d you come, anyway?"

His hand fell away slowly, but his eyes never left me. "To see you," he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Then he reached into his coat. "And also... to give you this."

He handed me the envelope, plain cream, a little bent at the corners, like it had been carried around too long. On the front, I saw a small black logo: The Haven Outreach Program. One of those quiet community shelters on the edge of the city. Church-run. Low profile. The kind of place people walked past without ever looking in.

I opened it slowly.

My fingers froze the second I saw the first picture.

My father.

James Thorne.

One shot had him handing out food at a soup kitchen, sleeves rolled up like he was playing savior. Another showed him loading blankets into the back of a van. Then came a CCTV still, grainy, dull, but clear enough. He was sitting outside a hospital, hunched forward, staring at the doors.

Kael’s voice broke the silence, softer than usual.

"I know you didn’t ask," he said, "but after what happened at the burial... I wanted to know more. About him. About why he showed up."

I kept staring at the pictures. My hands were shaking now.

"It turns out," Kael went on, "your mother had been in contact with him. A few times... before she passed."

My head snapped up. "What?"

He gave me a small, solemn nod. "He visited her. At the hospital. Always when you and Olivia weren’t there."

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