He stood across from me, fists clenched tight at his sides, the lines of his scarred face taut with a battle I couldn’t see.Every breath seemed to thicken the air between us until it felt like the kitchen itself might split from the tension.
“Why do you keep doing this?”I demanded, my voice trembling but fierce.“Why do you fight so hard to make me believe the worst of you?”
His jaw worked, words on the edge but unspoken.His eyes burned into mine, defiance and fear tangled in equal measure.
And then something shifted.
The space between us collapsed as we stepped closer, neither of us meaning to, yet both of us unable to stop.My heart pounded so hard it was all I could hear.His eyes locked on mine, sharp and haunted, before dropping—slowly, inexorably—to my mouth.
My breath caught.
The world seemed to narrow to that single charged second, his shadow and mine nearly touching, the smell of smoke and firewood clinging to him, the flicker of possibility hanging in the air.He looked like a man about to leap, and I swore if he did, I wouldn’t stop him.
For one heartbeat, we hovered there—balanced on the knife’s edge of something dangerous, something undeniable.
And then he jerked back as if burned.
“I need air,” he muttered, his voice harsh, unfinished, before I could say a word.He snatched his jacket from the back of a chair and shoved it on, movements too sharp, too quick.The door slammed behind him a moment later, leaving the kitchen ringing with silence.
Through the frosted window I glimpsed him outside, shoulders hunched against the cold, hands shaking as he lit a cigarette.Smoke curled around him like ghosts, dissipating into the winter wind.I couldn’t hear the words, but I could see the way his mouth moved—cursing himself, maybe cursing me, maybe both.
Inside, I exhaled for the first time since his gaze had fallen to my lips.My hands loosened from the counter, palms tingling, chest aching.I pressed my fingers to my mouth, as though to steady the trembling there.
The sting of rejection cut sharp, but it wasn’t the whole truth.I knew what I’d seen.What I’d felt.
He wanted it too.
That thought, fragile and terrifying, took root inside me as I steadied my breath.He could run, he could bury himself in smoke and snow, but the moment had already happened.We had stood at the edge together.And no matter how far he tried to push me, I wasn’t blind to the truth.
He wanted me.
And for reasons I couldn’t quite name, I wanted him all the more for trying so hard to deny it.
Chapter10
Charlie
She set her fork down with a little clink, her expression bright in that effortless way she had, even after the storm of words we’d just traded.My nerves were still raw, but she looked at me like nothing was broken.
“Well,” she said lightly, standing and brushing her hands on her sweater.“I think I’ll keep cataloguing books.You know, give you some peace.”
Her tone was playful, almost teasing, but it hit me square in the chest.Peace.That was the word she chose.
I gave a grunt that might’ve passed for agreement, though it came out more like a growl.She didn’t seem to notice—or maybe she just chose not to.She hummed softly as she gathered her notebook and pen, and then, just like that, she was moving down the hallway toward the library.
I told myself it was nothing.Good riddance.Let her bury herself in the work.That was what she was here for anyway—sorting through the ghosts I’d shoved onto shelves and into boxes, trying to make sense of a life that had never made sense.
But the lie soured as soon as I swallowed it.
Because every step she took away from me scraped like rejection.
I sat there at the kitchen table, fists tightening around the mug in front of me, and tried to smother the ache.I wasn’t supposed to care.She’d already pried too much from me—my space, my silence, my composure.Letting her have more would be foolish.Dangerous.
Still, the sting burrowed in deep.
The sound of her voice carried faintly from down the hall, soft humming, the rustle of pages, the gentle scrape of boxes against the floor.She filled the house without even trying, and here I was, sitting alone in the kitchen pretending I didn’t notice.Pretending it didn’t matter.
I leaned back in my chair and rubbed at the scars along my jaw, muttering under my breath, “You asked for this.You wanted solitude.Don’t go pining when she gives it to you.”
