His voice came from just over her shoulder, low and steady, close enough that she felt the vibration of it rather than simply heard it.Her back prickled with awareness.She could sense how easily he could reach out, how little effort it would take for him to steady her hand or pull her away from the wall.
The knowledge of his strength settled heavy and electric in her chest.She didn’t feel threatened, because Havoc’s strength felt protective and controlled.Why she thought that despite knowing very little about him unsettled her a little.
Ivy swallowed, forcing herself to keep her brush steady.
“I didn’t notice,” she said, though they both knew that wasn’t true.
She shifted her weight, painfully aware of how near he was, how the air seemed to hum between them.He was like a wall himself.Ivy wondered what it would feel like to lean back and let herself rest against something that strong.
“I know my limits,” she added.
He snorted softly.“Your stomach just called bullshit.”
She shot him a look over her shoulder.“Excuse me?”
“Take a break, Ivy,” Havoc suggested.
“No,” she said, bracing herself for an argument.“I don’t want to lose the momentum.”
He didn’t raise his voice.“You’re shaking,” he pointed out.
She looked down and cursed quietly when she saw it.Her hand trembled, just a little, the adrenaline burn-off finally catching up with her.Damn it.
“I’m fine,” she tried again, weaker this time.
Havoc softened his gaze, though his jaw stayed tight.“You can come back to it.Wall’ll still be here.”
She hesitated.Normally, she would’ve pushed back harder.Ivy really hated being told what to do.
However, something about the way he said it made the fight drain out of her.Havoc wasn’t commanding or dismissive.Ivy didn’t miss the concern in his voice.
She sighed, setting her brush down.“Okay.Fifteen minutes,” she said.
He curved his mouth upwards, a hint of satisfaction flickering there.
“Lunch,” he argued.“A proper one.”
She rolled her eyes.“Fine.Lunch,” Ivy said.
They took his bike.The diner was a few miles down the road, a squat little building with sun-faded signage and chrome trim that had seen better decades.The parking lot was half full, trucks and bikes scattered in no particular order.The moment Havoc pushed the door open, the air changed.
“Jesus,” a woman’s voice called from behind the counter.“If it ain’t Havoc.”
A waitress with silver-threaded hair and sharp eyes grinned at him like she’d known him forever.Another one waved from a booth, coffee pot in hand.
“Usual booth?”the first asked.
He nodded.“Yeah.”
They slid into a booth without discussion.Ivy tucked herself in across from him, taking it all in.The familiarity and the ease.The way the staff clocked her once, curious but not hostile.Coffee appeared in front of her without her asking.
“On the house,” the waitress said with a wink.“Anyone who survives a day at the compound deserves caffeine.”
Ivy laughed despite herself.“Thanks,” she said.
As the woman walked away, Ivy leaned forward slightly.“You come here a lot.”
Havoc shrugged.“Used to,” he admitted.
