My stomach flutters, an unsteady, traitorous thing. Butbefore I can form a response, another thought crashes into my mind, unwelcome and unstoppable.
“Why did we never speak in the manor?” I ask. “When I got older? Why… nothing?”
His mug hits the table with a quiet thud.
Ares goes still, so still I can see the pulse at his jaw. His hands tighten around the ceramic, knuckles whitening. The air between us shifts, thickens, shifts again. He doesn’t answer. Not immediately. Not at all, at first.
Then he stands.
No warning. No transition. Just abrupt movement as he reaches for his coat, shrugs it back over his shoulders, hides all that skin again beneath dark fabric. His gaze stays anchored anywhere but me.
“We did speak,” he says finally, quiet, almost pained. “It doesn’t matter now.”
He slips his hands back into his pockets, his posture closing off like a slammed door.
“I’ll meet you outside when you’re ready,” he adds, already turning toward the exit. “I need some air.”
He pushes the heavy oak door open without a single glance back, letting the bell above it chime mournfully as he disappears into the fading light.
And just like that, I’m alone at the table, staring at cooling icing and two empty chairs, wondering what the hell I just touched inside him.
I slingmy bag over my shoulder, murmuring a rushed thank-you to Maggie as I push out the door after Ares. The bell above me chimes, faint compared to the pulse thrumming in my ears. The street outside is crowded, but he isn’t hard to spot, his dark coat cuts through the warm glow of theshopfronts like a blade. He turns sharply into an alleyway. I move faster.
By the time I reach the alley’s mouth, he’s leaning against a brick wall, one boot braced behind him, a lighter flicking open and shut in his hand. A tiny flame blinks into life, then snaps out again. His thumb repeats the motion like it’s trying to bleed tension out of him.
“Ares.” His name leaves me harsher than intended, scraping along the tightness in my throat.
He lifts his gaze. The lighter clicks shut. “Harper,” he exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Just… give me a second to think.”
“No,” I snap, stepping closer. “You drop some half-truth in my lap, then walk out like being near me physically burns you. What was that about?”
A breathy, humorless laugh escapes him. “Maybe I can’t stand you.”
“Say it to me while you’re looking at me.”
His head jerks slightly, startled. “What?”
“Look at me,” I repeat, lifting my chin. “And say you can’t stand me.”
He does turn, slowly, those blue eyes locking onto me with a force that kicks my pulse into overdrive. His mouth opens, ready to lie, ready to hurt, ready to push me away. But something falters. Something deep. His pupils flare.
“What are you doing?” he mutters, voice strained. “Why do you keep… pushing? Why do you have to make everything so much more-” He breaks off, fingers threading through his hair with raw frustration.
“More what?” My voice rises despite my best efforts. “Complicated?”
“Yes,” he snaps. “Complicated. You keep pressing, and it makes me think, for one second-” His breath shudders out. He shakes his head. “Itdoesn’t matter.”
“That for one second what?” I demand. “You’re the one who keeps finding me. You’re the one who looks at me like you already know me. How is that my fault?”
Some kind of heat overtakes him, something he fails to hide. He steps toward me. One step. Two. Until my back presses against the cold brick wall and he’s close enough that his breath skims my cheek. His hands brace on either side of my head, caging me in shadow and tension.
His voice drops low. Rough. “I don’t know you. And you don’t know me.”
My heartbeat thunders against the stone behind me. Anger rises, sharp and sudden, and I shove him. Hard. He stumbles a step back, shock flashing across his face before it shutters away.
“You foundme,” I say, chest tight. “You keep showing up and tearing apart every belief I’ve ever had. When I thought my father was going to punish you for something I caused, I couldn’t breathe. And now you’re standing here acting like I’m the one tormenting you.” My voice cracks. “You’ve been in my head for days, Ares. Days. How is that fair?”
His expression fractures, just briefly. Pain flickers there, something raw enough to scare us both.
