Corbyn was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. He leaned forward slowly, his elbows resting on his desk as he looked at her across the way.
“He sounds like a special kind of bastard,” he told her, his voice tight with what Sadie was surprised to recognize as anger. It wasn’t anger at her, though; it wasforher, for what Nate had done to her.
“He wasn’t all bad,” Sadie said, the reflexive defense falling from her lips before she could stop it.
Corbyn shook his head. “Don’t do that. Don’t make excuses for him.”
“I wasn’t…” Sadie began, then stopped, realizing he was right, her shoulders dropping in shame. “Old habit. Sorry.”
Riley picked his head up with a whine, looking between Corbyn and Sadie. Reaching down, she stroked the dog’s head, the action soothing them both.
“It’s okay, boy,” Sadie murmured, and Riley leaned his head against her leg.
She heard the sound of Corbyn’s chair scraping on the floor as he stood, and listened to his footsteps as he moved aroundthe desk. Her breath caught when he crouched in front of her, forcing her to look at him. She saw him wince, but he didn’t stand; instead, he just held her gaze.
“Listen to me, Reed,” he said, his voice low and intent. “A man who destroys your work and who tries to extinguish your creativity… he doesn’t deserve a second of your doubt. He doesn’t deserve the space he’s taking up in your head right now.”
The ferocity in his tone caught her off guard, and she felt herself blink back tears. She refused to cry, not in front of Corbyn, and especially not over Nate.
“I know that,” she whispered. “Rationally, I know that.”
“But emotionally?” Corbyn pressed.
“That’s harder,” she admitted. “A decade is a long time to untangle.”
“Yes, it is,” he agreed, his expression softening. “But you’re doing it. You left. Don’t let him pull you backwards. Not even in your thoughts.”
They were closer than they’d ever been, except for that brief moment when Riley had nearly knocked her over. He was close enough that Sadie could see the faint stubble along his jaw, the way the scars climbed his neck, and the golden flecks within the blue in his irises. The scent of his cologne flooded her senses, and she felt something electric humming between them. A pull low in her stomach stole her breath for a moment before she could respond.
“I won’t,” she promised softly.
His eyes dropped briefly to her lips, and for one dizzying moment, Sadie thought he might lean closer. Instead, he seemed to catch himself, and he stood before leaning back against the edge of the desk.
“Good,” he said, his voice rougher than usual. “Because you deserve better.”
Without thinking, she reached out, placing her hand over Corbyn’s where it rested on the desk. His skin was warm beneath her fingers, and she felt the slight start of surprise at her touch.
“Thank you,” she said simply.
Corbyn looked down at their hands, his expression a complex mixture of emotions Sadie couldn’t fully decipher. When he looked up again, something shifted in his expression. There was a vulnerability that mirrored her own.
“Reed, I…”
The study door swung open as Edie bustled in with a tea tray, her cheerful voice shattering the moment. “Thought you two could use a…” She stopped abruptly, taking in their proximity and the way Sadie pulled her hand away from his. “Oh! I’m interrupting.”
Corbyn stood quickly, moving back to his chair with false casualness, clearly something he had perfected over the years.
“Just discussing character motivation,” he said smoothly. “Thank you, Edie.”
“Perfect timing, actually,” Sadie added, turning to mess with the papers in her lap to hide her blush. “We’ve hit a bit of a wall with chapter sixteen.”
“Well then,” Edie chuckled with barely concealed amusement that had Sadie fighting back a groan, “I’ll leave you to your ‘character motivations.’ Lunch in an hour.”
Riley followed Edie to the door, the lure of kitchen scraps stronger than his need to stay pressed against Sadie’s leg.
As the door closed behind Edie, a slightly awkward silence edged around them. Sadie rose from the chair and busied herself with pouring tea. In the back of her mind, she wondered if this was another one of those moments, one that would further alter the way she and Corbyn interacted.
They would need to tread carefully. Blurring the lines between personal and professional any further could be disastrous. Yet,she had found a comfort in his presence she hadn’t expected, and she wasn’t sure what that would mean going forward.
