Jamie didn’t laugh at me; instead, he closed his eyes. I wasn’t used to seeing him stressed like this; I was used to fire and purpose. “I wish,” he muttered. “We need to know how we get to Kessler’s software and take it out. I need to talk to Lyric.”
“Afterhe’s eaten,” I repeated.
Jamie glanced at the plate I’d put together—cheese cubes, yogurt, two crumbled cookies, and amug of steaming coffee balanced beside it on a chipped plate. “That’s not food,” he said in horror.
I stared at it as if I were seeing it for the first time. “Protein, cookies, coffee—all the major food groups,” I muttered. “It’s all we’ve got right now. I’ll go out and get something when…”
I trailed off.
When what?
When he wasn’t mine to want?
Mine to hate—andstillwant?
“I’ll give it ten,” Jamie said, daring me to argue.
“Thirty. He’s fucking exhausted.”
I carried the tray of food into the room, setting it on the small table by the wall and noticed my phone on the floor—must have dropped it when I was carrying Lyric. I bent, picked it up, and straightened slowly, eyes fixed on the bed. Lyric was curled on his side, breathing even, face slack in sleep. Too slack. I didn’t buy it for a second.
Suspicion prickled in my chest.I moved closer, crouched, and studied him, waiting for the tiniest flicker of awareness. Nothing. My hand hovered, then I reached out and shook his shoulder, watching hard to see if he’d break character, if this was an act or thereal thing. He was a shit actor, blinking at me, even throwing in a small yawn as if I’d fall for it. “Food,” I said, and his eyes widened on cue as his stomach gave a loud, betraying grumble. I helped him sit up, steadying his weight with one arm. His hair was still a little damp, one side flattened from where he’d been lying, but as soon as my fingers brushed through it, curls sprang loose in a mess of dark waves. I hadn’t meant to touch him like that. My hand froze mid-motion. He froze too, eyes locking on mine, tension crackling between us, and for a second, the room felt caught in something fragile and dangerous.
He flinched, as if my touch had burned him. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” I said before I could stop myself.
“You said you were gonna kill me,” he shot back, voice thin but biting.
“Yeah, well, that was before.”
His eyes narrowed. “Before what?”
“Before you were the victim,” I growled.
Lyric bristled, fire lighting his expression. “I’m not a fucking victim,” he snapped, anger flashing between us like sparks off a live wire. He tried to move—too fast. A wince contorted his face, followed by a yelp of pain as if he’d forgotten his stitches, his ribs, and the knock to his skull all at once. I felt guilt, yeah -- he was hurt and weak -- but no, hewasn’t a victim. “A target, then,” I said, the words heavy between us. I backed away and brought over the plate of food, setting it on his lap. He stared down at it as if he couldn’t decide whether I was feeding him or poisoning him, probably wondering how any of it qualified as healthy eating for a convalescing target.
I took the plate and moved to the bed, crouching beside Lyric. He looked exhausted, and his hand trembled as he reached for the cheese cubes. I didn’t say anything, just took one and held it out to him. His pink lips closed around my finger, brushing the skin, and my pulse stuttered as if I’d been hit.
I froze.
His mouth was soft. Warm. For a second, it wasn’t about feeding him. It was aboutthat. That slow drag of heat as his lips closed and his lashes fluttered as though it surprised him too.
I swallowed hard. Pulled my hand back as though it had been burned.
He watched me in silence, a tiny furrow between his brows, as though he’d caught the thought in my head.
“Cheese, yogurt, chocolate cookies,” he whispered, picking up a cube of cheddar between two fingers. “All the major food groups.”
I couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my mouth, unbidden.
“That’s what I told Jamie.”
Lyric’s expression grew serious. “I need to talk to Jamie. I need his help to?—”
“Eat,” I cut him off, sliding the coffee within reach before slumping into the chair, arms folded tight across my chest, stubborn as fuck.
He stared at me, then at the plate.
“Eat,” I repeated, voice hard. “And then, you can talk to Jamie.”
