I wasn’t sure I wanted to run from that anymore.
Temptation flickered.
Call him.
Tell him you’re scared.
Tell him you don’t want to be alone with this notebook and these questions and this apartment that still smells like your sister’s perfume.
Tell him you need help understanding something in the journal.
He’d come.
I knew he would.
The image of him turning around in the hallway, coming back through the door, settling beside me again?—
My thumb even drifted toward my phone on instinct.
Then stopped.
No.
Self-respect mattered, too.
I wasn’t going to manufacture a crisis just to get a man into my bed.
Even if every nerve in my body wanted exactly that.
So instead, I lay there, staring into the dark, letting want and uncertainty twist together until they were impossible to separate.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow we’d go see Étienne.
Tomorrow, answers might start appearing.
Tomorrow, Kane would be beside me again.
And maybe?—
Maybe something would finally give between us.
I exhaled slowly and rolled onto my side, reaching for my phone.
One message.
Harmless.
Not begging.
Just …
Connection.
My thumbs hovered over the screen for a moment before typing.
Tomorrow, you’re not allowed to be late. Dangerous men should at least be punctual.
