LOGINShare
Chapter TWENTY TWO — The Locker With My Name On It
Last Updated:
2026-01-25 05:46:28
Latest chapter
Storm-Worn Hearts Chapter 32 — Bassline Heartbeat
By late afternoon, the house feels like it’s been holding its shoulders up for days. Phones buzz, laptops glow, cameras blink their patient red eyes, and yet, somewhere between the kitchen island and the hallway Liberty decides she’s done letting fear be the only thing that gets to make plans.She corners me in the living room with the righteous intensity of a woman who has survived worse things than men.“We’re going out,” she announces.I blink at her. “Out where.”“Dinner,” she says, then corrects herself with a grin that looks like a dare. “And then dancing. Somewhere loud enough that your brain can’t replay beige conference rooms.”Rowan, on the couch arm, lifts an eyebrow. “She means club.”I feel my stomach tighten, instinctive. Crowds. Unknown faces. Darkness made social.“I have work,” I say automatically, because work is my oldest hiding place.Liberty points at me like she’s issuing an order. “Nice tr
Storm-Worn Hearts Chapter THIRTY ONE — The Committee’s Smile
The hospital wears its innocence well. Glass doors that whisper open. Floors polished to a shine that suggests purity. Fluorescent lights are bright enough to make anyone look clean. It’s a place built to convince you that if you follow the protocols, if you wash your hands, if you chart correctly, you can keep the rot out. But rot doesn’t always come in on dirty shoes. Sometimes, it comes in wearing a tie. I step through the staff entrance with security at my shoulder and my badge heavy against my chest, and I feel it immediately, the shift in the air. Not the stalker kind. The institution is kind. Eyes that slide off me too fast. Conversations that stop mid syllable. Smiles that arrive a second late. A nurse I’ve known for years gives me a look that’s half sympathy, half warning. “Hey, Dr. Vale,” she says softly. “You okay?” “I’m good,” I answer automatically, then correct myself because I’m tired of lying out of habit
Storm-Worn Hearts Chapter THIRTY — Liberty Crumbs, Unbowed
Liberty opens her bakery like it’s an act of defiance. Not loud defiance. No speeches or no dramatic music swelling in the background. Just the simple violence of routine: keys in the lock, lights flicked on, apron tied tight.The morning air is cold enough to make the windows sweat, but inside Liberty Crumbs everything smells like the world is still capable of sweetness, yeast waking up, vanilla warming, coffee settling into its bitter comfort.I stand behind the counter with Liberty’s spare apron over my scrubs (I came straight from a short hospital consult), and I feel strange in this place that used to mean safe.Dawson insisted on coming. Not inside, he’s trying, honouring our new rules, honouring her space. He’s in the car across the street with Kellan, far enough to look normal, close enough to come running if needed.Miles and Rowan are “just grabbing breakfast” nearby, which is soldier speak for we are the perimeter.Liberty chec
Storm-Worn Hearts Chapter TWENTY NINE — Paper Shields
Morning in Dawson’s house feels like living inside a held breath. The coffee pot hisses. The refrigerator hums. Somewhere down the hall, a floorboard complains softly, Jace, probably, roaming like a restless ghost with a stomach and no patience. The whole place is awake, but none of us are resting. We’re simply vertical. And I. God, I am aware of Dawson in a way that makes my skin feel too thin. Not because he’s doing anything. Because he’s not. No touch when he passes behind me. No casual brush of fingers. No kiss stolen in a doorway. Just his presence, measured and careful, as if he’s afraid that if he acts like last night mattered, the world will punish us for it. Or maybe he’s afraid I will. I stand at the sink pretending to rinse a mug that’s already clean, watching the pale light gather on the backyard like it’s ashamed to arrive after everything. The pool steams faintly, a quiet reminder of heat and
Storm-Worn Hearts Chapter TWENTY EIGHT — Conference Rooms & Heartbeats
The day tastes like paperwork. Not coffee, not sunlight. Paper. The dry, fibrous flavour of systems and signatures and people who believe the right form can tame the wrong kind of man. I stand in Dawson’s kitchen with my badge in my hand, staring at it like it’s a guilty thing. It betrayed me by being cloned by being used as a key for someone else’s hands. Across the room, Dawson watches me without pretending he isn’t. He’s trying. God, he’s trying to look casual, like last night didn’t rewrite the atmosphere between us. But his gaze keeps landing on my mouth and then snapping away as if eye contact is a match, and we’re standing in gasoline. Miles is at the table with his laptop. Rowan is by the window. Jace is making toast with the intensity of a man defusing a bomb. Liberty is in the living room on the phone with her assistant manager, voice sharp and brave as she insists the bakery will open on schedule, with extra cameras and zero to
Storm-Worn Hearts Chapter TWENTY SEVEN — Morning, Like a Question
I wake up with the taste of steam still in my mouth. Not literal, nothing so simple. It’s the memory of warmth and water and the way Dawson’s hands held me like I was both precious and real. The kiss is there the moment I open my eyes, waiting in the air like perfume you can’t outrun. And then I remember where I am. His room. His bed. His house still humming with locks and cameras and other people sleeping down the hall because of the danger following us. Beside me, Dawson sleeps on his back, one forearm thrown over his eyes as if he had to block out light even in the dark. His breathing is slow, real sleep, the kind I’ve watched him miss for weeks. His mouth is slightly parted, his jaw unclenched, and something inside my chest aches with a tenderness so sharp it feels like a blade turned inward. I shouldn’t move. If I move, I’ll wake him. If I wake him, we’ll have to deal with whatever happened last night. So, of course, I
You may also like
Pop My Cherry Daddy!
Xee write529.5K viewsThe Trap Of Ace
Eva Zahan1.0M viewsThe Breaking Point of Love
Cloudsearcher2.8M viewsWarning: My Mommy is A Savage!
Seeking A Peaceful Life2.1M viewsFive Years As A DoorMat Wife: Her Time To Shine
A. Leilani27 viewsDear Husband, I Want this Marriage no More
Sannelle577 viewsAltar Vows
Adetutu144 viewsHer Ex-Husband's Obession
Cee91 views
