“I have no doubt you would have succeeded.”
Holding my gaze until both our smiles died down, she eventually cleared her throat. “Well, thanks for the backup. Even if I didn’t need it.” Faith’s words carried that trademark edge, sharp enough to cut glass. “The shoving was pretty satisfying to watch.”
I didn’t mention how much more satisfying it had been to do it. Or that when I’d walked into Axel’s lobby and spotted that jackass cornering her, leaning in like he had any right to breathe her air, I’d fantasized about introducing his face to the marble floor. Multiple times.
Instead, I smiled. Nice and civilized. “So, what brings you to Axel’s?”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and I tracked the movement like a man hypnotized. Light mocha-colored silk with hints of auburn that caught the lobby lights. The gesture exposed a thin white scar along her jawline, barely visible unless you were looking. Unless you’d memorized every inch of her face, like I had. Another story she’d never tell. Another battle she’d won.
“Thought I’d check on Dakota.” Her green eyes shifted to my phone. Christ, those green eyes. They had the slightest flecks of blue in them, like the Caribbean ocean you could see right through to the sand. “You?”
“Organized a detective to meet with Axel.” Suddenly, being here went from all business to all thrill. I mean, honestly, getting to share the elevator with her? I felt like a teenage boy. “Shall we?”
The approval process dragged. Security protocols. Key cards. Meanwhile, I cataloged details: the way she drummed her fingers against her thigh (nervous habit), how she bit the inside of her cheek when thinking (adorable), the faint scar on her skin that disappeared beneath her shirt (story number twelve she’d probably never share).
When we entered Axel’s private elevator, the doors sealing with a soft whoosh, everything changed.
Her shoulders pulled tight. Fingers twisted together, knuckles white. The confident woman who’d just handled a creep without breaking a sweat suddenly looked like she wanted to claw through steel.
“Claustrophobic?” I wondered aloud.
She shrugged. “Just a little.”
I gave her a look that said,Try again, Counselor. I call bullshit.After all, I’d become a student of Faith Morrison, and this wasn’t nerves. This was something deeper. Raw.
Her breath hitched, and I could see the moment of hesitation play out before finally revealing what was bothering her.
“When I was little, my parents died in a car accident.” She stared at the elevator buttons like they held secrets. Her breathing had changed. Shorter now, deliberately controlled. I’d seen it athousand times with witnesses on the stand—that careful modulation right before they revealed the thing that would break them open. “After, they stuck us in this tiny police room while they figured out what to do with us. Hours. Just me and Blake in this box that kept getting smaller. I couldn’t breathe. All I could think was that my parents were dead and they were never coming back. Nobody was coming for us, and the walls kept closing in and closing in and …”
Her voice cracked. Actually cracked. Faith Morrison, who could stare down a lion without blinking, was starting to come apart in front of me.
Something shifted in my chest: a tectonic plate moving after a lifetime of stillness. She’d just handed me a piece of herself she probably hadn’t given to anyone. Maybe not even her brother. Me. This woman who guarded herself like classified intelligence had just let me past every wall, every defense, straight into the raw center of her fear.
“Hey.” I cupped her cheek before I could think better of it. Her skin burned warm beneath my palm. “You’re okay. You’re here. With me.”
Her eyes met mine, vulnerable in a way that made my throat tight. She’d trusted me with this. The magnitude of that trust settled over me like an oath. Unspoken but binding. I wouldn’t forget it. Couldn’t. This moment had changed something between us, shifted us from whatever we’d been before into something I didn’t have words for yet.
I couldn’t stop myself from stroking the soft skin of her cheekbone with my thumb.
Instantly, something changed in those green depths. Like she’d just discovered she could let someone see her break and the world wouldn’t end. Like maybe, just maybe, she’d forgotten what it felt like to let someone else carry the weight for five seconds.
“So …” She stepped back, clearing her throat. “Is the detective on his way then?”
Nice deflection, Counselor.I’d allow it. For now.
“Yeah.” I watched her rebuild her walls brick by brick. “It’s thoughtful of you to check on Dakota.”
“My brother’s friends have been inviting me into their circle.” Another hair tuck. Another flash of that scar. “The least I can do is reciprocate.”
It bothered me, how she seemed to feel like an obligation. Like she had to pay them back, simply for them being kind to her.
I was about to say as much when, suddenly, the elevator jerked to a violent stop.
Faith stumbled forward, and I caught her. Effortlessly. As if my body was attuned to her every movement and was already prepped for her to literally land in my arms. When I steadied her back on her feet, did I let go?
No. No, I didn’t.
My hands remained positioned on her elbows as her eyes went wide with horror, darting around the stalled elevator like a trapped bird seeking escape.
