I didn’t clear up how I knew Lindsay. I didn’t need to.
Michelle’s breathing had changed, her chest rising a little too quickly for someone who wasn’t affected.
“How’s your mom?” I asked, shifting gears, though I kept my voice low, my body still angled slightly toward Michelle.
Lindsay’s smile faltered. “She’s… hanging in there. Not as social these days with the new meds, but I’m hoping she’ll be herself again. She asked about the big guy the other day.”
I nodded, making a mental note to visit her. “Agnes is too sweet.”
“Well, enjoy your climb. I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” I said, and she waved as she walked away, joining the group she’d come with.
I turned back to Michelle, and damn—she was fuming.
Her brows knitted together, her lips pressed so tight they were almost white.
“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.”
She scoffed, eyes flashing. “I’m not… This isn’t…” She made a sound in the back of her throat, somewhere between frustration and pure rage.
“It’s okay, Mitch,” I murmured, stepping closer, enough that I could see the way her pulse jumped at her throat. “I won’t tell anyone.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Tell anyone what?”
“That you still care,” I said, voice low, even.
Her breathing hitched, but she masked it fast.
“If you’re wondering, I’ve never slept with her,” I continued, watching her closely, tracking the way she stiffened. “Especially not two years ago when you and I were together.” I tilted my head. “You weremorethan enough to handle.”
Her gaze snapped to mine, a firestorm brewing in those dark eyes. “We weren’t exclusive,” she said, but her voice had a crack in it, something wavering, uncertain.
I stepped in closer, enough that our breaths mingled, enough that I could smell the faint trace of her shampoo, the same scent that clung to my sheets for days.
“Like hell,” I murmured.
The thought of her with someone else made my blood boil—which was insane because we were nothing to each other now.
And yet, I felt it, the same way I felt everything when it came to her.
She dropped her gaze for half a second, something hesitant flickering over her features. Then, she squared her shoulders, her walls snapping right back up.
“Fine,” she admitted, voice tight. “We were good together. Better than good.”
Something loosened in my chest.
“Thank fuck you finally admit it,” I said, exhaling, my relief annoying even me. “Did it kill you to say it?”
“Almost,” she said, a slow, smug smirk curling her lips. “Don’t make me regret it.”
I chuckled, reaching out without thinking, fingers curling lightly around her wrist. Her pulse thrummed under my touch, and I knew I shouldn’t be doing this—but for the life of me, I couldn’t stop.
“I’m not a total asshole,” I said, voice softer now. “You’re putting up all these stop signs with me, and I get it. I do. But it seems like we’re gonna be seeing a lot of each other, whether you like it or not.” I held her gaze, watching, waiting. “You’ve made yourself pretty clear, so I’ll step back.”
Her expression shifted—just slightly, just enough.
Her walls were strong, but for a second, I thought I saw a crack.
She nodded. “I appreciate it.” But the way she said it? It was almost regretful.
