Lahat ng Kabanata ng Troubled Heart: Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

I shuffled the deck of cards in my hands, feeling the worn edges glide smoothly between my fingers. The fire crackled behind me, casting a warm glow across the room, but I barely noticed. I focused on Makayla, watching me with cautious curiosity from the other side of the small coffee table. “All right,” I said, setting the deck down. “We’re not just playing Go Fish. We’re playing Go Fish… and Tell.” Makayla raised an eyebrow. “And that’s different how?” I smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Simple. Whenever you ask for a card, you must ask a personal or fun question. If I have the card, I answer. If I don’t, you ‘Go Fish,’ and answer your question instead.” She tilted her head, considering. “So, it’s like truth or dare, but just truth and fishing?” “Pretty much.” I grinned. “Oh, and if you get a full set of four cards, you can ask a wild card question. Anything you want.” Her lips twitched like she wanted to smile but was holding back. “And let me guess—you’re going to ask quest

I sat frozen, my fingers tracing the edge of the worn photo album in my lap, my heartbeat steady but heavy. Across from me, Makayla stood stiffly, her arms crossed tightly as if physically holding herself together. Her breaths were slow and controlled, but I could see the conflict raging beneath the surface—see how her fingers twitched and her jaw flexed like she was trying to bite back the storm of emotions inside her. She was unraveling, and I didn’t blame her. I had spent years untangling myself from the damage Stacey had done, from the betrayal of realizing my sister had erased me, erased our father, and rewritten our entire existence to suit the perfect, untouchable image she wanted to project. Makayla was just now discovering that the woman she had once trusted, maybe even loved, had been playing God with her own history. She let out a sharp, bitter breath, shaking her head. “This…” she exhaled, voice shaking before she forced control back into it. “This doesn’t make sense.”

Pockets let out a soft whine, curling against my leg as I sat motionless on the couch, staring at the closed bedroom door. The cabin was too quiet, and the air felt thick with the weight of everything that had just happened. I had meant to distract her, not throw her deeper into the storm raging in her mind. I exhaled slowly, raking a hand through my curls. Damn it. I had been so careful, trying not to add more to the tangled mess of emotions Makayla was already battling. But then she’d asked that question, and what was I supposed to do? Lie to her? No. Stacey had done enough of that. Still, that didn’t make it hurt any less. Makayla looked gutted, like I had reached inside her chest and ripped something vital out of her. And maybe, in a way, I had. The Stacey she had known, the one she had convinced herself she understood, had been slipping through her fingers since the moment she crashed into my world. But now? Now, she was realizing she had never known her at all. I glanced at

I didn’t know what I expected when I kissed her. Maybe a slap. A shove. A bitter reminder of who she still technically belonged to. But instead, I got her mouth. Hot. Needy. Honest in a way that words could never be. And when I took her there—slow, aching, deliberate—when I pulled those sounds from her lips and left her trembling under me, I realized something that terrified me more than anything else: it wasn’t just sex. Not for me. Not anymore. I didn’t move right away. I couldn’t. Kneeling between Makayla’s legs, I stared down at her—completely unraveled, stunning, and utterly real. Her rainbow hair fanned out across the old blue sofa like the chaotic halo it was. Her eyes were half-lidded, dazed in that post-release haze that made her look almost ethereal. Her lips were parted, still kiss-swollen and wet, cheeks flushed, freckles dusted across them like constellations I wanted to map with my fingertips. Her chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths, breasts bare and beautifu

The energy in the cabin had changed. Not in a bad way—not like before, when fear clung to the walls, and Makayla’s scent was laced with panic and pain. No, this was different. Softer. Sweeter. Like the calm after the worst storm, the world felt quiet again when the wind stopped screaming. I curled up near the fire, after doing my business in a corner where Lilac had set out old newspapers. It wasn't my puppy pads or actual grass, but beggars cannot be choosers. Just like getting to finish off their bowls of soup wasn't my usual kibble, I was hungry, so I tolerated the liquid meal of human food. By the fireplace had beclme my favorite spot. It was warm there, and the floor smelled faintly of cinnamon from something Lilac had spilled weeks ago. But I wasn’t sleeping. I couldn’t, not really. My ears twitched with every crackle of the firewood and every weight shift on the couch behind me. My two favorite humans were lying there, breathing in sync under the big quilt Lilac liked to st