“I’m sorry,” I murmured.
“Not sorry enough,” she whispered back.
Her voice cracked like a hairline fracture in armor. And it made my pulse spike.
Because for a second—I got to see her break.
Not in weakness. But in truth.
And I hated myself for it.
I continued slowly, cleaning the blood with care I didn’t know how to express in words. Every swipe of gauze was deliberate. Controlled. Like I could erase the hurt someone else inflicted. Like I could reclaim her—one touch at a time.
Then her hand. The finger she’d pressed too hard in the heat of it all. Another small wound, but one that mattered because it was hers.
I wrapped it in silence.
Every brush of my fingertips against her skin sparked something electric in the air between us. Unspoken. Unresolved. Dangerous.
When I finished, I secured the tape gently and looked up.
“There,” I said. My voice was quiet, hoarse. Possessive. “You’re all set.”
But we both knew nothing was.
Because I hadn’t fixed what mattered.
I’d just touched the surface.
And beneath it?
Everything still burned.
“I don’t understand you,” she said quietly.
The words cut through the silence like a blade.
I turned to her, leaning against the counter, my hands still tingling from touching her skin just minutes ago. Her eyes were guarded, wide—but not afraid. Just lost.
“What do you mean?” I asked, though I already knew.
She hesitated—then shook her head, like the weight of it all was suddenly too much to hold.
“You were engaged to Sloane,” she said, each word deliberate. “Then to my sister.” She paused, letting the words settle. “And now… me.” Her voice cracked on the last word. Just slightly. But I caught it. “You get engaged to women like they’re contracts,” she said. “And I don’t know where I fit in that equation. I don’t know what I am to you.”
There it was.
The fear behind the fire.
She didn’t know if she was a placeholder or a possession.
Didn’t know if she was a weapon or a weakness.
Didn’t know if she was just… next.
I pushed off the counter, slow and controlled, walking toward her like she might bolt.
“You think I see you the same way I saw them?” My voice dropped, low and dark. “You think this was just convenient?”
