Flynn heads into the living room where I can hear him and Sean talking in low voices. I clean up the rest of the kitchen, trying to calm my racing heart, trying to make sense of what just happened.
He almost kissed me. Again. He wants me, I know he does. But he keeps pulling away, keeps fighting it, and I know why, even if I don’t fully understand it.
He told me—he thinks he'll ruin me. He thinks he's not good enough. He thinks he's protecting me by staying away.
But what if I don't want to be protected from him? What if I want to see where this could go?
I finish the dishes and head to the bedroom, closing the door behind me. I can still hear their voices in the living room, and I wonder what they're talking about. Security, probably.The threats against me. Everything except what's happening between us.
I change into pajamas and climb into bed, but I know I won't sleep. I'm too keyed up, too aware that Sean is just down the hall. The apartment grows quiet as Flynn leaves, and I hear Sean moving around, getting ready for bed on the couch. Part of me wants to go out there, to talk to him, to finish what we started.
But I don't. Because as much as I want him, I'm also terrified. This is all so new, so overwhelming. A month ago, I didn't know him. Now I'm falling for him, and I don't know if I can survive having my heart broken by someone I'm incapable of escaping.
I lie in the darkness, listening to the sounds of the city outside, and try not to think about the man sleeping down the hall, or how my body is still throbbing, remembering how he nearly kissed me again. I try not to think about how much it's going to hurt if he keeps pushing me away.
And fail at all three.
18
MAEVE
Idon't sleep well. Again.
The bed is comfortable—Sean's bed, which feels strange and intimate even though he's not in it—but I can't stop replaying what happened in the kitchen. The way he looked at me. The way his hand felt against my face. The way he said my name so close to my lips that I could taste it.
And then Flynn walked in, and whatever moment we were having shattered like glass.
By the time pale gray light filters through the windows, I'm exhausted and wired all at once. I can hear movement in the apartment—Sean's up too. Of course he is. I doubt he slept any better than I did.
I put on leggings and an oversized sweater, pull my hair back, and try to look like someone who has her life together. I already know I’ve failed before I even catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
When I emerge from the bedroom, Sean is in the kitchen, pouring coffee. He's already dressed, his dark hair damp from a shower, and he looks like he hasn't slept in days. The couch behind him has a rumpled blanket and a pillow, and I try notto think what he might have done there after the apartment was quiet, how he might have eased the same tension that ran through me all night like a live wire.
I thought about trying to do the same. But that’s not what I want. I wanthim.
"Morning," I say quietly.
"Morning."
The word is clipped, distant. The warmth from last night—the cooking together, the almost-kiss—is gone, replaced by the familiar walls he keeps throwing up between us.
I pour myself coffee and wrap my hands around the mug, searching for something to say. The silence is suffocating.
"I have a meeting with the Council this morning," he says without looking at me.
"Okay." I nod, still staring at my coffee.
"You'll stay here with Flynn."
I nod again, even though part of me wants to ask what the meeting is about. If it's about us. About the attacks. About whatever danger is still lurking out there.
"Sean, about last night?—"
"Don't." The word cuts through the air like a blade. "Last night was a mistake. It won't happen again."
The words hit me like a slap. A mistake. That's what I am to him. A mistake he keeps almost making.You said that before,I nearly say, but I bite it back.
"Right. Of course," I manage, keeping my voice level even as something inside me crumbles.
