“Excuse you, I’m excellent at pretending things.”
“I’ve noticed,” he says softly.
Heat rises in my chest.
“Give me five minutes,” I manage. “I want to… uh… teeth. And face. And pajamas. Things.”
He nods, stepping back just enough to let me squeeze by down the hall.
I do not sprint.
I walk.
Quickly.
Once I’m in the bedroom, I close the door and press my back against it, staring into the dim room.
The bed looks bigger than it did last night.
More loaded.
Less like a piece of furniture and more like a question I’m about to answer.
I move through my mini routine with more focus than it deserves. Toothbrush. Face wash. Change into sleep shorts and a soft, oversized t-shirt I grabbed from the dresser. It’s got the Maddox Security logo on the back.
When I’m done, I stand there for a long beat, looking at myself in the small mirror above the dresser.
Hair: chaotic but salvageable.
Face: flushed from scrubbing and panic.
Eyes: too bright.
“You’re okay,” I tell my reflection quietly. “You’re allowed to want this and still be scared. Both can be true.”
I’m not sure if I’m talking about the bounty or the boy.
Probably both.
I kill the light and crawl into the bed, sliding under the covers. The sheets are cool against my legs. The mattress dips just enough under my weight.
My heart hammers as I lie there staring at the ceiling.
I hear Knight in the bathroom—water running, the quiet scrape of the toothbrush, door opening, closing.
His footsteps down the hall are soft but somehow louder than anything.
The bedroom door creaks open.
He pauses on the threshold.
Even in the dark, I can feel his hesitation.
“It’s fine,” I say into the quiet. “I don’t bite in my sleep.”
“You bite when you’re awake,” he mutters.
“Accurate.”
