Chapter 36 — When Truth Gets Louder
"Kade?"
He turned at the sound of her voice. She stood in the doorway of his study, fingers curled around the frame like she wasn't sure she was allowed to be there.
"Yes?" he said, closing his laptop. "Come in."
Kiera stepped inside, glancing around. "I hope I'm not interrupting."
"You're not," he said immediately. "What's wrong?"
She hesitated. "Nothing. And also… something."
He smiled faintly. "That usually means everything."
She let out a small laugh and walked closer. "I've been thinking about what Leo said. About people leaving."
Kade's expression softened. "He says a lot of things that sound casual but aren't."
"I know," she said. "And it made me realize something."
He waited.
"I don't want to become another person in his life who disappears," she said quietly. "Even if… even if things get complicated."
"They already are," he said gently.
"Yes," she agreed. "But I mean more complicated."
Kade leaned back in his chair. "Talk to me."
She took a breath. "If I decide to go back to school, and I have classes, and responsibilities—things might change here."
"They will," he said calmly.
"And I don't want you thinking I'm pulling away because of you," she continued. "I'd be doing it for me."
His gaze was steady. "I would never confuse growth with rejection."
Her shoulders relaxed. "Good. Because I need you to believe that."
"I do," he said. "But let me ask you something."
"Okay."
"Are you afraid that if you grow, you won't need this place anymore?" he asked.
She froze.
"…Yes," she admitted.
"Does that scare you," he asked, "or excite you?"
She considered. "Both."
He nodded. "That's how it's supposed to feel."
She smiled faintly. "You're good at this—saying the right things."
"I'm terrible at most things," he replied. "I'm just trying to be honest now."
"That's new for you, isn't it?" she teased.
"Painfully," he said dryly.
She laughed, then grew quiet again. "Vivienne texted me."
Kade stiffened. "What did she say?"
"She didn't threaten me," Kiera said quickly. "Not directly."
"That's worse," he muttered.
"She said I was temporary," Kiera continued. "That you'd get bored. That men like you always do."
Kade stood abruptly. "She has no right—"
"Kade," Kiera interrupted gently. "I didn't tell you so you'd defend me."
He paused. "Then why?"
"Because… a part of me wondered if she was right," she confessed.
His chest tightened. "Kiera—"
"I know," she said quickly. "I know you've shown me otherwise. But fear doesn't always listen to proof."
He stepped closer. "Look at me."
She did.
"You are not temporary," he said firmly. "Not to Leo. Not to me. And not to yourself."
Her eyes filled. "You can't promise that."
"I can promise how I feel right now," he replied. "And that I won't treat you like something disposable."
She nodded slowly. "That's enough."
They stood there, the air heavy with words that almost became something else.
Almost.
Later that evening, dinner turned into an unexpected debate.
"I think Leo should try piano," Kiera said.
Kade blinked. "Piano?"
"Yes," she said confidently. "He has good rhythm."
"He bangs on tables," Kade argued. "That's not rhythm."
"It's enthusiasm," she countered.
Leo looked between them. "I can hear you."
"Great," Kade said. "Pick a side."
"I want drums," Leo declared.
Kiera groaned. "Absolutely not."
"Why not?" Leo protested. "Dad said noise builds character."
"I did not say that," Kade replied.
"You implied it," Leo insisted.
Kiera crossed her arms. "Drums are loud."
"So is Dad when he's on calls," Leo shot back.
Kade raised a finger. "That is confidential information."
They all burst into laughter.
For a moment, it felt… normal.
Warm.
Like something fragile but real.
After Leo went to bed, Kade found Kiera in the living room, flipping through school brochures.
"You're serious," he said.
She looked up. "Terrified, actually."
"Good," he replied. "That means it matters."
She smiled nervously. "What if I fail?"
"Then you fail," he said. "And you try again."
"What if I can't balance everything?"
"Then we adjust," he said. "Together."
She studied him. "You say that like it's obvious."
"It is," he said. "You're not alone anymore—unless you want to be."
Her voice softened. "I don't want to be."
He nodded. "Neither do I."
She closed the brochure. "Kade?"
"Yes?"
"Do you ever feel guilty?" she asked.
"For what?"
"For being okay," she said. "When so many people weren't kind to you."
He thought for a moment. "I used to. I thought happiness was something you earned by suffering enough."
"And now?" she asked.
"Now I think suffering just teaches you what not to accept," he replied.
She smiled. "I like that."
That night, as Kiera lay in bed, her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
She stared at it before answering.
"Hello?"
"You don't listen well," Vivienne's voice said softly.
Kiera's heart skipped. "You shouldn't be calling me."
"Relax," Vivienne replied. "I just wanted to tell you something."
"I'm not interested," Kiera said, steadier than she felt.
"You think you're changing him," Vivienne continued. "But men like Kade don't change. They break."
Kiera swallowed. "I'm not here to fix him."
A pause. Then a laugh. "That's what makes you dangerous."
The call ended.
Kiera sat there, shaking.
Moments later, there was a knock.
"Kiera?" Kade's voice. "Are you awake?"
She opened the door, eyes still wide.
He took one look at her face. "What happened?"
"She called me," Kiera said. "Vivienne."
Kade's jaw tightened. "I'm ending this."
She shook her head. "No. I don't want you fighting my battles."
"This isn't your battle," he said. "It's mine."
She met his gaze. "Then promise me something."
"What?"
"That whatever you do," she said, "you don't let her turn this into a war."
He hesitated. "I can't promise it won't get messy."
"Promise me you won't lose yourself," she said.
He nodded slowly. "I promise."
She exhaled, relief washing over her.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"For knocking?" he teased gently.
"For being here," she replied.
He smiled softly. "Always."
As he turned to leave, Kiera realized something.
The conversations weren't just changing things.
They were changing them.
And there was no going back.