"I know your routines." He couldn't look at her, couldn't bear to see the fear or disgust that was surely spreading across her face. "Know you lock up the shop at exactly 6:15 on weekdays, 8:30 on Saturdays. Know you get coffee at Java House every morning at 7:45. Know you sing in your car when you think no one's looking."
Silence. His heart hammered against his ribs.
"Why?" she finally whispered.
"Because I couldn't stay away." He forced himself to meet her eyes, and he knew he was showing her too much vulnerability in his own. "I tried. God knows I tried. But something about you..." He shook his head. "I'm drawn to you in ways I can't explain. In ways that aren't normal."
He waited for her to run. To call him a stalker, a creep, all the things he'd called himself a thousand times.
Instead, her voice came out steady. "Maybe I don't want normal."
"You should stay away from me." The words tore out of him. "You should run. I'm not... I'm not safe."
She studied him for a long moment. Standing there in the snow, he knew how he must look to her. Tatted, dark, and dangerous. A man who'd just admitted to tracking her every move like a predator.
But she didn't run. She stepped closer.
"There's good in you, Lex." Her voice was soft but certain. "I see it."
"You see only what I let you see."
"Then let me see more."
They were close now, close enough that he could see the snowflakes catching in her lashes. His hand came up, hovering near her face but not quite touching.
"If I do," he said quietly, "there's no going back. Once you know... everything changes."
"Everything's already changing." She caught his hand, pressing it to her cheek. Her skin was cold from the winter air, but her eyes were warm. "And I don't even know your middle name."
He made a sound that might have been a laugh or a sob. "It's Mitchell."
"Lex Mitchell Chapman." She smiled, and it broke something in him. "Very distinguished."
"My family would disagree." His thumb stroked her cheekbone without his permission. "They think I'm reckless. Stubborn. Too willing to break rules."
"What rules?"
His hand dropped. "The kind that keep people safe."
And just like that, the walls slammed back into place. He stepped away, the mask of control sliding over his features.
"We should get back. It's getting colder."
She didn't argue this time, but he could feel her eyes on him the whole walk back. Could feel the questions she wasn't asking, the patience that somehow made everything worse.
The rest of the day passed in strained silence. Lunch. More pretending to read. Dinner. The tension between them had shifted, become something heavier. She knew now. Not everything, but enough to make her curious for more.
By evening, she announced she was going to bed early. He didn't blame her.
"Goodnight, Lex."
"Goodnight, Jules."
She disappeared down the hall. A moment later, he heard the guest room door close, then her footsteps going across the hall to the bathroom. When the shower turned on, he groaned and dropped his head into his hands.
His phone lit up with a text from Adam:
How's it going? You two getting along?
