Silas’s jaw clenches.
Boone’s hands curl into fists.
I feel my own chest tighten, that protective instinct that always kicks in when I see someone cornered.
Delaney inhales, steadies.
“And I want to stop wanting you,” she hisses. “All of you. Because it’s not safe for me.”
Silas goes still. Boone flinches. My throat closes.
Delaney presses on because she’s trying to be brave, and she’s doing it with a knife.
“I think we need to go back to how things were,” she says. “Professional. Clear. Like it was supposed to be.”
Silas laughs once. It isn’t humor. It’s disbelief.
Boone doesn’t laugh at all. He just nods once, tight.
“I can do that,” Boone says. “If that’s what you want.”
Delaney’s eyes glisten. “It is.”
Silas looks at me like he wants backup. He wants someone to argue for her heart instead of her fear.
I don’t.
Because arguing isn’t caring. It’s pressure.
And she’s had enough of that.
I swallow.
“Okay,” I say quietly. “We do that.”
Delaney looks at me. She didn’t expect me to agree. Part of her wanted me to fight too.
I don’t give her that.
I give her steadiness.
Silas drags both hands down his face. “So we drove for hours into the woods to decide we’re going to pretend nothing happened.”
Boone’s gaze cuts to him. “We’re not pretending. We’re choosing.”
Silas points at him. “You’re choosing control.”
Boone is sharp. “And you’re choosing insanity.”
Silas’s mouth twists. “Yeah. Probably.”
“Stop,” I plead.
They do.
Because, for all their differences, both of them will listen when I say it like that.
Delaney wipes her cheeks quickly. She’s furious at herself for needing to.
