Her lips part, and I think she might say something. Instead, she looks down at the bracelet and brushes her fingers over the links.
She doesn’t need to say anything. I can feel the shift, the way the weight between us has changed, even if only a little. She’s still guarded, still hiding, but I’m starting to slip through the cracks.
“Thank you,” she whispers like she doesn’t think she deserves any of it.
That’s the part I can’t quite figure out yet.
Why does she see herself this way?
“I’m only good to be looked at or used.”
“Where would I even go with a fifteen-thousand-dollar dress and a bracelet that costs at least as much?”
It costs more but…
… semantics.
“You’ll have to go out with Levi and me more often,” I reply with a grin, trying to keep it light before things get even heavier.
She laughs, shaking her head, her fingers still playing with the bracelet. “No promises. I’m in Italy soon, remember.”
Italy.
She’s going to be pissed when she hears that our deal isn’t over after tonight. But it’s going to be good when this is over, and she’s away and happy.
“Besides, it’s your birthday, not mine, and I don’t have anything for you.” She steps closer. Before I can respond, she rises onto her tiptoes, her scent hitting me like a hurricane as she kisses my cheek. “Happy birthday, Koen.”
Her scent.
It’s a bakery at dawn—sweet, warm, comforting. It pulls at something deep inside me, something I haven’t felt since I was a kid. It reminds me of early mornings when my mom used to bake cinnamon rolls on Sundays, and the air filled with that warm sweetness that meant everything was right in the world. For a second, I’m back there—small, safe, wrapped in a warmth that makes everything else fade away.
For such a simple gesture, the kiss wrecks my insides in a way I can’t seem to shake. Part of me even wants to pull her back, to ask her to do it again, only to feel her against me for another moment.
Fuck.
For the first time since Oscar’s death, the numbness recedes.
Somethingrealis taking root.
“All right.” I clear my throat, not letting her see how much that little kiss threw me off. “Let’s get out of here.” I tilt my head toward the door, giving her a playful nudge. “Levi’s gonna hunt us down if we take too long. You know he has no fucking patience at all.”
She giggles, and we head out. When we reach the car, she hesitates, her gaze flickering between the Bronco and the ground, her fingers tightening around her purse strap.
“How can we make this ride better, so you don’t, you know…” I gesture toward her, “… ruin all your makeup by clamping your eyes shut?” I try to keep my tone teasing, but I’m actually worried.
Yesterday, watching her struggle, I’d wanted nothing more than to stop the car to let her out or, better yet, to climb into the back seat with her and pull her into my lap, shielding her from whatever was haunting her. And here we are again, another test for her, another challenge I’m hoping she’ll get through.
I’m such an asshole.
“You could let me drink,” she mutters, glancing up at me with a wry smile, though she doesn’t say it as cuttingly as she would have a few days ago. There’s a tension there, though, in her eyes, in the way she grips her purse strap as if it’s the only thing tethering her to the moment.
“I need you sober for this mission. I’m sorry, but you can have champagne with Levi when it’s all over. Deal?”
Yep, definitely an asshole.
“You could put me in a trance, then?”
“Unfortunately, that’s not how this works. I can’t take the fear from you. That would take a lot of work and?—”
