“Not a chance.”
He gives me a look that saysyou’re being stupid again.
“You’re pacing like a caged animal, Silas. Go burn off the energy. Take the truck.”
I grab the keys.
He’s right.
Two days.
TALON
I walk into class and forget how to breathe.
Because she’s already there. Penelope sits behind her desk, hair falling over her shoulder, sunlight catching on her cheekbones like she’s been carved out of the kind of trouble I’ll never be able to resist.
She glances back—just one look—and my pulse jumps like I grabbed a live wire.
Jesus Christ. I just saw herhoursago.
How does she still have the power to rip me open without trying?
“Mr. Grant,” Brose says, monotone, “take a seat.”
Right. Seat. Sure.
I drop into the seat in the first row, and closest to her desk because I have absolutely no self-preservation left. She shifts slightly when I sit, like she can feel me. Heat crawls up my neck.
The lecture blurs into background static. My mind’s still back in the car, replaying the way her voice rolled over me, the way her honesty short-circuited every rational thought I had left. She forgave me. Actually forgave me. My knee starts bouncing, jittery and traitorous, until I clamp a hand on it and force it still. I slip my phone out, thumb hovering over a new text before I can talk myself out of it.
Me: Everything okay?
He replies instantly.
Silas: Fine. Focus on class… tell Penelope to eat.
I glance at her.
Her notebook’s open, and her lips are pursed in concentration.
I text her instead.
Me: Eat something after this. Or I’ll call Silas and Gideon. I know you have snacks.
Her phone buzzes, she looks down, and a slow smile spreads across her mouth.
And I nearly drop the damn device.
Penelope: Bossy today. I’ll eat, relax. And tell the other two we’re not using you as my babysitter during the day.
Relax? She really doesn’t know what she does to me.
Me: Not possible.
She turns her head just enough to meet my eyes.
Yeah… No. I’m not surviving this class.
