Heavy boots.
A familiar breath.
“Figured I’d find you out here.”
I don’t turn.
“I’m on my break.”
“I’m not here to stop you.”
His voice is calmer now. Less storm.
More ice.
But it still strips me bare.
“I saw your hands shaking,” he says quietly.
“You’ve got no right to notice.”
“No,” he murmurs. “I don’t.”
Silence spreads between us like fog.
“She’s beautiful,” I say finally.
“She is.”
It cuts deep.
“But she’s not you,” he adds.
I turn.
Because I need to see him lie.
Only—he’s not lying.
He looks wrecked.
Dark eyes.
Tense jaw.
Hands shoved into pockets like he’s holding himself together.
“That meant to make me feel better?” I ask.
“No. It’s just the truth.”
“You’ve got a funny way of showing the truth.”
“She was there before I saw you,” he says.
“So if I’d come in first,” I whisper, “you’d have let me straddle you instead?”
His eyes flash. “Don’t say shit like that.”
