The blanket feels suddenly suffocating around my shoulders, heat crawling up the back of my neck.
“You don’t really mean that,” I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
Kai laughs then. A quiet, low sound that doesn’t quite match the sharpness in his eyes. He leans forward just slightly, elbows on his knees, studying me like I’m a puzzle he hasn’t finished solving.
“You know…” he begins, his voice measured, “you confused me when I first met you. You are… very consistent in your effect on me.”
My brows knit together, but I don’t interrupt.
He exhales slowly, gaze drifting for a moment toward the fire before finding me again. “I always thought people could only care when they were comfortable. When they were safe. Strip all that away, put someone in survival mode, and empathy disappears. People are kind when they can afford to be. That’s what I believed.”
“And then that day on the bus,” Kai lets out a low laugh, shaking his head like he still can’t quite believe it. “You looked wrecked. Like you hadn’t slept in days. And anyone else, anyone normal, would’ve told me to get lost. Or ignored me.”
He pauses, his mouth twitching into something that’s not quite a smile, not quite a smirk. “But you didn’t. I walked over, and yousmiledat me.”
The laugh slips out of him again, softer this time. “You were ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. And you managed to care anyway.”
My throat tightens. I want to look away, but I can’t.
He shakes his head, almost like he’s scolding me, though his voice stays soft. “You were ridiculous. And you were extraordinary.”
“I—” My voice falters, but I force the words out anyway. “Thank you.”
I look at him, watching him nod. And I think—not for the first time—how easy it is to fall under Kai Steele’s gaze.
Being with him, I’ve always found, feels a lot like a soft blindness. Like falling asleep with someone’s hand resting lightly over your eyes.
It’s a peaceful thing.
Because the world feels quieter when he’s near. He knows exactly how to make you feel like the only person alive.
No one has ever spoken about me like this. Not once. Not like I mattered.
EvenIhad never considered myself any of those things. In fact, the exact opposite, really.
I don’t remember a time when I actually liked myself.
I suppose if I were more confident, things like that would come more naturally to me. But truthfully, I’ve never been that kind of person. Not even a little. I don’t have that thing in me: the spark, the voice. Whatever it is that makes people stand out in rooms.
I shrink. Automatically. Like my body already knows I don’t belong.
That’s why I will always admire people like Kai.
His gaze lingers on me for a moment longer. Then, almost too serious, he says, “You don’t even realize it, do you,Soreya?”
The word slips out so naturally it takes me a second to register it. My brows knit. “What did you just call me?”
But he doesn’t get the chance to answer (not that he would have) because the door creaks open.
“Here is the food, as you requested,” Sue announces as she steps inside, Elliot trailing behind her with a plate balanced carefully in both hands. “And I have Sterling waiting to talk to you over the phone. I told him what happened, as you told me to, and he’s getting quite impatient.”
Sue sets a tray down on the low table, her sharp eyes flicking between me and Kai. There’s something different in her gaze when it lands on me, though. There’s almost a glimmer of sympathy softening the edges.
“Thanks, Sue,” Kai says politely, though he doesn’t look away from me.
Elliot shuffles closer, perching on the couch beside me. The plate lands in my lap before I can even protest, steam curling upward.
“Eat up,” he says, and this time I don’t protest.
