Her apartment smelled like garlic and herbs when I walked in. She was at the stove, stirring something in a pot, her hair pulled back, that hoodie of mine pushed up to her elbows. She looked comfortable. She looked like she belonged there.
She looked beautiful.
"You didn't have to do this," It was my turn to say the words she used to repeat.
"I know." She glanced over her shoulder, smiled. "I wanted to."
We ate at her small table, knees almost touching underneath. The food was good, some chicken dish with rice and vegetables, and she told me about her day at the café while I tried to focus on her wordsinstead of her mouth, her hands, the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed.
Afterward, we cleaned up together. The easy choreography of shared space, her washing, me drying. Domestic in a way that made my chest ache.
She was at the sink, rinsing the last pot, when I reached past her for the dish towel.
And suddenly we were too close.
I don't know how it happened. One second I was reaching for the towel, the next I was standing right behind her, close enough to feel the heat of her, close enough to smell her shampoo. She turned, and then we were face to face, inches apart, and neither of us stepped back.
Her breath caught. I heard it, saw her lips part, saw her eyes widen.
My eyes dropped to her mouth. I couldn't help it. Couldn't stop myself from looking, from imagining, from wanting.
The air between us felt combustible. Like a single spark would set everything ablaze.
I leaned in. Fraction of an inch. Watched her lean in too, watched her eyes start to close, watched her?—
My phone rang.
The sound shattered the moment like glass. We both flinched, stepped back, the spell broken. I fumbled for my phone, saw the station number on the screen.
"Bennett."
"Cap, we need you in." Liam's voice, tense. "Multi-alarm fire at the warehouse district. All hands."
"I'm on my way."
I hung up. Looked at Lucy. She was leaning against the counter, arms wrapped around herself, cheeks flushed. Her eyes met mine, and I saw everything there. The want. The confusion. The fear.
"I have to go.”
"I know."
I should say something. Should acknowledge what had almost happened, what we'd almost done. But there wasn't time, and I didn't have words, and all I could do was grab my jacket and head for the door.
I paused with my hand on the knob. Looked back at her one more time.
"We should talk," I said. "When I get back."
She nodded. "Be safe."
I left. The door clicked shut behind me, and I took the stairs two at a time, trying to focus on the call ahead of me instead of the woman I'd left standing in her kitchen.
But I could still feel it. The ghost of a kiss that hadn't happened. The weight of everything that was changing between us.
The unfinished gravity of it.
CHAPTER 11
Lucy
