“Mornin’,” I said, voice rough from sleep and the cigarettes I hadn’t smoked yet.
She looked up, warmth flickerin’ in her eyes for half a second before it slid away. “Morning.”
Josie was hummin’ by the stove, flippin’ somethin’ in a skillet like he didn’t want to be part of whatever was brewin’ between us. I gave him a nod and poured myself coffee, watchin’ Lark out of the corner of my eye. She kept her gaze fixed anywhere but me.
“You sleep okay?” I asked, leanin’ back against the counter.
“Yeah.” Too quick. “Just tired.”
I took a sip, let it burn a little. “Funny,” I said. “Didn’t seem tired last night.”
Her cheeks flushed, color bloom-in’ high. Still didn’t look at me. “Guess it caught up with me.”
That twist hit my gut again. The one I’d learned not to ignore. The one that said I was bein’ managed, smoothed over, handled gentle so I wouldn’t push too hard.
Josie set a plate of eggs down in front of her, then glanced my way. Just a look. Subtle. The kind that said somethin’ ain’t right. Then he wiped his hands on a towel and slipped out the back door.
I crossed the room slow, set my cup down, and rested my hand on the back of her chair. Didn’t crowd her. Didn’t rush it.
“You’ve been quiet since we left the bar last night,” I said.
“I really am just tired,” she said again, pokin’ at the eggs like they’d offended her.
I crouched beside her, brought my hand up and tipped her chin until she had no choice but to look at me. Her eyes were soft, but guarded. Careful.
“You gonna tell me what’s really goin’ on,” I asked, keeping my voice calm, “or we gonna play this game all mornin’?”
Her throat worked as she swallowed. She held my gaze for a beat, then let it slip away. “It’s nothing, Chain. Really.”
The way she said my name—soft, almost plead-in’—should’ve eased me.
It didn’t.
“Don’t lie to me, Lark.” My voice dropped, slow and sure. “I know when somethin’s off. You came back wired tight, then you damn near tore the skin off me like you were tryin’ to erase whatever it was.”
She flinched.
Just a little.
Enough.
I closed my eyes for a second, breathed through it, forced the edge outta my tone. “I’m not mad,” I said. “I just… need to know what’s messin’ with you.”
For a heartbeat, I thought she might tell me.
Her lips parted. Her eyes went glassy in the pale mornin’ light, like the truth was right there, sittin’ heavy behind them.
Then she blinked.
And that careful calm slid back into place.
“It’s nothing you can fix,” she whispered.
“Maybe not,” I said, thumb brushin’ gentle along her jaw. “But I can damn sure try.”
She smiled then. Small. Worn around the edges. Not the kind that reached all the way in.
“You don’t have to worry about me, Chain.”
