“You think I don’t want to pull you back in?” I add, keeping my gaze on hers. “You think I don’t feel it? Every second you’re close and still not mine? I do. But wanting you doesn’t give me the right to take.”
She doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move. But her knuckles go white where they grip her arms. Her pulse flutters in her throat. And I know she hears me. I know it’s landing.
So I soften. Just enough. “You stayed,” I say. “Last night. This morning. You stayed.”
She nods. Once. Then again, tellingherself, not me. “Didn’t mean to,” she murmurs. “Didn’t want to.”
“But you did.”
She closes her eyes. Winces a little, the truth stinging. When they open, her voice is barely there. “It felt safe.” Three words. That’s all. But they flatten me. Because safe is sacred. In her world, safe means everything.
I don’t let myself reach for her. Just grip the railing harder. “I’d give you that,” I tell her. “Every night. If you wanted it.”
Her eyes shine; not with tears, not exactly. Just weight. Years of it. “I don’t know what I want.”
“That’s okay,” I say, quieter now. “I’ll still be here while you figure it out.”
She doesn’t flinch from that. Doesn’t run. She just lets the silence settle between us. And she stays. Again.
The clubhouse is quiet again. Just James, Maggie, and us. Candace is curled into the corner of the couch, legs tucked beneath her, watching the fight I put on an hour ago. Her focusdoesn’t flicker once. Not even when James and I trade glances, or when Maggie stretches with a groan beside her.
There’s a pen near her fingers. A napkin tucked under her leg. When the volume dips, she hums. Quiet, under her breath, just two notes. Then it’s gone. Swallowed, vanished without a trace.
I think about the way her voice had sounded when she asked me if we could spar. I’d asked Coach Tompkins about it a few days ago. He’s been up my ass ever since. Keeps asking why she’s not with me.
I didn’t want to tell him she’s been avoiding me like I’ve got a damn plague mark on my back.
“What the hell is wrong with that guy?” she mutters, brow furrowed. “He keeps leaving himself wide open.”
I laugh under my breath. Share a look with James. I love that she knows this stuff. That the blood and brutality of it doesn’t send her running.
Maggie stands, stretching. “Alright. I’m out. I need my beauty sleep.”
James follows, slipping an arm around her waist, dropping a kiss to her forehead. “You’re always beautiful, even if you only sleep an hour.” The look they share makes something twist in my chest. Raw. Envious. Hungry.
I glance at Candace. She’s watching them too. For just a second, I swear I see it; the same flicker in her eyes that’s tearing me apart inside.
“Why don’t you two come over for dinner tomorrow?” Maggie offers.
I stay quiet. I want to knowheranswer first.
Candace swallows. Looks down.
“I’ll make cinnamon rolls,” Maggie adds with a smirk.
Candace scowls. Not deeply, just enough that it makes my lips twitch.
“That’s fine,” she mutters. Then looks at me.
“Sounds good,” I echo, my voice softer. My eyes never leave hers.
“Be there at six. Don’t be late,” Maggie warns, before she and James head out. James chuckles low as the door clicks shut.
But I’m still watching Candace. And she’s squirming under it. Which is maybe the best part of my night.
I stand. Stretch. Crack my neck. “I’m gonna shower.” I want to ask if she’ll join me. But I don’t. Not when she’s still looking ready to bolt at any second.
So I turn. Head up to my room. Our room. Let the heat of the shower wash the tension off my skin. When I come out, towel drying my hair, disappointment bites hard. She’s not there.
