“Compare me to whoever came before.”
I blinked, surprised that he’d read me that easily. “You don’t even know who?—”
“I don’t have to.” His mouth curved slightly, not a smile, but close. “I can see it written all over your face.”
I swallowed hard. “Maybe you’re just projecting, hotshot.”
“Maybe.” He stepped closer, just enough that the air shifted between us. “But I don’t think so.”
And the thing that terrified me most — the thing that made my pulse stutter and my chest ache — was that he was right.
Josh made me feel small.
Silas made me feelseen.
He turned back to the fire, pretending to busy himself with thelogs. The muscles in his shoulders bunched under his shirt, and the sight of it — all that quiet restraint — made my stomach flip.
“You really don’t like being looked at, do you?” I said softly.
His hands stilled. “That’s not true.”
“Mm. Sure feels like it.” I shifted my weight, watching his profile as he straightened. “You get all tense. All—” I traced an invisible line down my arm. “Controlled. Like you think you canwillyourself into calm.”
“Maybe I can.”
I laughed, quiet and sharp. “That’s boring.”
He finally looked at me, and oh, theheatin that glance. It made my knees weak, my breath catch. “Do you think I’m boring, Colette?”
“I think you want to be.” I moved closer slowly, deliberately, until I could smell the faint scent of cedar on him. “But I don’t think you are. Not even a little.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t touch me. But his eyes tracked every inch of me like I was something dangerous and precious all at once.
“You should be careful,” he said finally, voice low enough that it rumbled in my chest.
“Why? Afraid I’ll corrupt you?”
His mouth twitched. “Afraid you’ll try.”
“Afraid I’ll succeed,” I whispered.
Somethingsnappedin the air between us — a string pulled too tight, a note held too long. I could feel my pulse in my fingertips, my throat, everywhere.
He exhaled slowly, like he was talking himself down from a ledge. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”
“Not when it’s this fun.”
And maybe it was cruel, the way I smiled at him then — daring, reckless — but after years of walking on eggshells, of being told to quiet down, it felt good tobe too muchfor someone who refused to run.
I didn’t mean for it to sound cruel, but the words slipped out, anyway. “You’re kind of like him, you know,” I said, eyes on thefire instead of his face. “Always trying to control the temperature in the room.”
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut. I regretted it instantly — the comparison, the venom tucked inside it — but something in me just wanted toseeif he’d flinch. If he’d shut down the way Josh always did, that subtle withdrawal that left me talking to a wall.
Silas turned, slowly, the firelight throwing planes of gold across his face. “You don’t know what I’m trying to control.” The low rasp of his voice didn’t sound angry. It soundedwounded. Which was worse.
He set his mug down with a little too much care, like he needed to keep his hands busy so they wouldn’t betray him.
“I didn’t mean—” I started. But I had. And we both knew it.
