Then answered honestly.
“I don’t know yet.”
But not knowing didn’t feel like panic.
It felt like possibility.
Good.
Then my stomach growled.
Loudly.
Kane huffed a laugh, the sound vibrating under my cheek.
“Hungry people make bad decisions,” he said.
I groaned. “So, you’ve said.”
“Yep.”
Reluctantly, I pushed myself up, dragging the sheet with me. Cool air hit overheated skin, and I shivered.
Kane’s gaze tracked me automatically as I stood, the look slow and appreciative in a way that sent heat curling low in my belly all over again.
“Careful,” I warned.
His brow lifted. “About?”
“We’ll never leave this apartment if you keep looking at me like that.”
His mouth curved slightly. “Not seeing the downside.”
I rolled my eyes, grabbing Rose’s oversized sweater from the floor and pulling it over my head.
The familiar scent hit instantly.
And with it?—
A stab of grief.
I froze for half a second, fabric tangled around my arms.
Rose had worn this.
Walked around this apartment in it. Made coffee. Answered emails. Probably FaceTimed our parents in this exact sweater while her daughter colored at another kitchen table across the city.
My throat tightened.
Behind me, the mattress shifted.
Kane’s voice softened. “Hey.”
I finished pulling the sweater down and turned.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed now, watching me carefully.
Not pushing.
