Neither of us speaks for a minute. I still can’t believe he kissed me. In honesty, even when I saidDon’t, I wanted him to. I pulled him closer; goddamnit, I lost my head and kissed him back for a split second. But the way he just… leaned forward andtook… That’s not something I ever thought he’d do. Or ever thought he’dwantto.
It’s changed everything.
Nate’s gaze flicks to me, apologetic, uncertain. “Ally…”
“No.” I hold up a hand. “Not yet.” I’m not ready to handle this right now.
He stops, breath fogging faintly in the cold draft still lingering near the threshold.
I exhale. “Sit down. You’re hurt.”
He opens his mouth like he’s going to argue, but must see something in my face because he doesn’t. He lowers himself ontothe couch with a grunt, rubbing his ankle with one hand, not meeting my eyes.
I fetch the first aid kit from under the sink, set it on the coffee table, and kneel in front of him without ceremony. His breath stutters, but I pretend not to notice.
“Boot,” I order.
He unties it slowly, wincing as he slides it off. I peel back the thick sock; the ankle underneath is swollen and mottled with the early bloom of a bruise. I make a low sound without meaning to. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he murmurs.
“Shut up.” I touch gently around the bone, evaluating. “Does this hurt?”
“Not too - ow. Yes. That. Definitely that.”
I nod. “Yeah, a sprain, I think. But I’m not a doctor. You need to stay off it. Keep it elevated.”
“It’ll be fine.”
“Nate,” I say sharply. “Stop minimizing.”
His mouth shuts. A muscle jumps in his jaw. “That’s exactly what I’m used to doing, though.”
Ignoring his loaded remark with all my might, I wrap the ankle in the elastic bandage, tight but not too tight. His breath hitches once, in pain, not anything else. Good. I don’t want anything else right now. Idon’t.
When I finish, I sit back on my heels and look at him.
This is the hard part.
Especially when he looks so filled with regret.
He hesitates briefly. “About earlier,” he says, voice low. “I’m sorry. I know sorry doesn’t fix it. I just… I wasn’t thinking. I was scared after the fall, and you saved my life and I guess I just reacted.”
“It wasn’t OK,” I say quietly.
“I know.” Shame darkens his eyes. “I shouldn’t have touched you without asking. Or at all.”
He means it. Every syllable rings with sincerity, regret, something like self-loathing.
But none of that undoes the moment. The shock of it. The heat of his mouth pressed to mine, fast and reckless. The way my body had responded with a lightning bolt of sensation I didn’t ask for, but can’t deny with a straight face.
I take a breath. “Look, we’re stuck here together. Days, maybe. And I don’t want to spend those days avoiding each other or simmering in awkwardness. So.” I lift my chin. “We forget it happened.”
Nate’s brows lift, surprised. “Forget it?”
“Yes.”
He nods slowly. “If that’s what you want.”
“It’s what will keep us both sane.”
