“No, I mean it.” He looks up again, gaze locking with mine. “You didn’t panic. You read her. Adapted.”
“I learned from the best.”
Tex smiles, and I realize it’s the first one since we’ve been alone.
“What’s wrong?”
His hand pauses for a beat but then continues. “I just don’t like seeing you hurt. The only marks I want to see on your body are the ones I leave.”
“But I’m not hurt, per se. I won, Tex. I just… needed to fight.” My breath catches a little.
I’m not broken glass anymore. I’m a sword still cooling from the forge.
“I know,” Tex says, standing smoothly.
He tucks the last piece of gauze back into the kit and clicks it shut. Then, without another word, he heads over to one of the duffel bags tucked near the door.
I blink. I didn’t even see them.
Of course, the boys brought supplies. Probably took shifts packing while I was changing earlier.
Before I can ask, he disappears into the bathroom.
The door clicks shut behind him, and for the first time all night, I’m alone.
The silence settles in around me.
My limbs ache. My ribs throb dully. But beneath the physical exhaustion is something else — something sharper. A kind of clarity.
I fought. And I won. Not just the match, themoment. The fear. The helplessness I didn’t even know I was still carrying.
And the most unexpected part of the night? That kiss.
Jace claiming me.
My blood boils again. How dare he?
He thinks after all the shit he’s put me through that a kiss will just erase it all?
No, it was just the adrenaline, and he was there. That’s it.
But he didn’t hover. Didn’t doubt. He just watched. Supported.Believed. Considering he was telling me to fuck off at the Halloween dance a couple weeks ago…
It hits me all at once how rare that is, to be trusted with your own strength.
The bathroom door opens. Steam rolls out first, thick and curling into the room. Then Tex steps through.
Hair damp. No shirt. Just a pair of soft, gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips, the waistband slung in that effortless way that feels almost calculated. His chest is lean and cut with quiet definition, a few faint scars trailing across his ribs and collarbone.
I blink once. Hard. He tosses the towel into the hamper like he didn’t just silence every thought in my brain.
He smirks.
“You’re drooling.” His deep chuckle makes me shiver.
“I am not!” I grin as he climbs into bed beside me.
I prop myself up on my elbow, and Tex does the same, his fingers tracing lazy lines up and down my side.
