“I’m heading into the office,” I say instead, grabbing my mug.
Her brows lift. “I thought you were taking today off.”
“I was.”
She hesitates. “Then… what am I supposed to do?”
The question hits me wrong. Too vulnerable. Too open. Like she’s expecting something from me that I don’t know how to give without losing ground.
I snap before I can stop myself.
“Whatever you did before you were tied to me.”
The words hang there—sharp, ugly.
She stares at me for half a second… and then laughs.
Not offended. Not hurt.
Just amused.
“Okay,” she says simply, lifting her mug. “I can do that.”
Guilt slams into me immediately.
I set my coffee down and step closer, reaching for her without thinking. My hands frame her face, thumbs brushing the line of her jaw as I look down at her.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I’m stressed. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
Her expression softens, concern replacing humor. “You don’t have to apologize.”
“I do,” I insist.
I lean down and kiss her—gentle, brief, restrained. The kind of kiss that saysI carewithout opening the door any wider than it already is.
“I’ll see you later,” I murmur against her lips.
She nods, eyes searching mine like she knows I’m pulling away.
And that makes it harder than anything else.
I grab my keys and leave before I can change my mind—before I can stay, before I can want too much.
Because wanting her already feels dangerous.
And losing control feels worse.
Game On
Sabrina
The front door clicks shut.
I stand there longer than I should, staring at the wood like it might explain what just happened.
Last night, Langston was laughing. Teasing. Watching me like I was something precious.
This morning? Cold. Controlled. Distant.
