I can't breathe. "Grayson?—"
"Don't." His voice drops lower. "Don't apologize for wanting something."
"I wasn't going to?—"
"You were." His eyes hold mine. "You get this look. Like you're about to explain yourself. Make excuses." He leansforward slightly. "You wanted him. You kissed him. That's not something to be sorry for."
The words settle strange in my chest. Not what I expected.
"Then what do you call what we did in that alley?"
His jaw tightens. "Inevitable."
The word hangs between us, heavy with meaning.
Before I can respond, the bell over the door chimes.
Seth walks in.
My stomach drops.
He sees us immediately—sees me sitting in a booth with Grayson Cole. His hand lifts in an automatic wave, that easy smile starting to form.
Then it falters.
I watch it happen. The way his expression shifts when he really looks at us. At me. Taking in my flushed cheeks, my swollen lips, the way I'm leaning toward Grayson across the table.
The smile doesn't quite reach his eyes anymore.
"Seth!" I half-rise from the booth. "Hey—do you want to?—"
He's already shaking his head, pointing toward the window where his cruiser is parked outside. He gestures to his radio, his watch. Work. He has to work.
The message is clear:I can't. I need to go.
But what I see in his eyes is:I don't want to watch this.
"Right. Yeah. Of course." My voice sounds too loud. Too bright.
He nods once. Looks at Grayson with something unreadable. Then he's turning, heading back out the door before I can say anything else.
The bell chimes again as he leaves.
I sink back into the booth. "Fuck."
"Yeah." Grayson's voice is rough.
"I hurt him."
"You did." He's not sugar-coating it. "But you didn't do it on purpose."
"That doesn't make it better."
"No." He leans back, studying me. "But beating yourself up about it doesn't help either."
I glare at him. "You're very matter-of-fact about this."
"Would you prefer I lie and say it's fine?" One eyebrow raises. "Tell you Seth didn't look like you just kicked his puppy?"
