“About the storm?”
“No.”
She waits.
I don’t elaborate.
Because if I do, I’ll tell her everything.
Chapter 6
Rory
“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” he says, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching me like he’s trying to read the cracks in my armor.
I force a smile. “Sorry. I’ll pace clockwise instead.”
He snorts, but his eyes stay soft. Too soft. Like he’s worried I might shatter if he touches me wrong. “What are you thinking?”
“That I was stupid,” I blurt. “Sorry I keep thinking about it.”
Dax straightens. “No–”
“I really was stupid though,” I say, the words sharp now. “I built a whole fantasy out of ink and paper.”
He steps closer. Slow. Careful. Like he knows how volatile I am right now.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You say that because you’re nice.”
“I say it because it’s true.”
I look up at him. “You don’t know how it felt. Waiting. Wondering if tonight would finally make it real.”
His jaw tightens.
“Stop beating yourself up, Red,” he says gently.
The words land soft.
Too soft.
I laugh, brittle. “Can’t help it.”
I don’t miss the way he looks away.
Forced proximity changes everything. There’s no counter to hide behind. No espresso machine humming between us. No morning rush or easy rhythm.
Just silence.
And tension.
And the knowledge that I can’t leave.
I drop onto the couch, hugging a pillow to my chest. The firehouse smells like soap and metal and something warm and familiar that makes my chest ache.
Dax sits in the chair across from me, then stands again like he can’t get comfortable either.
