As if some primitive part of my brain had taken one look at him and gone,Yes. I want that one.
I stopped on a bridge overlooking the river, watching water slide beneath me.
There was a time when I would have talked myself out of this.
Told myself attraction wasn’t enough.
That chemistry faded.
That relationships required compatibility and safety and shared goals and …
And what?
Predictable sex twice a week and polite dinners and eventual quiet resentment?
I thought about Hank again. The way our breakup had felt less like heartbreak and more like resignation. Like admitting something that had been true long before either of us said it out loud.
He was good.
Just not for me.
And Kane?—
Kane was everything Hank wasn’t.
Dangerous where Hank was safe.
Watchful where Hank was relaxed.
The kind of man who stepped between you and traffic without thinking.
The kind of man who’d handle trouble instead of avoiding it.
The kind of man who made your pulse trip just by looking at you.
A man who would never, ever bore you.
The thought sent warmth through me.
I checked my phone again.
Nothing.
Of course, nothing.
He’d said nothing about calling.
And still …
I smiled faintly.
“Okay,” I murmured to the wind. “We’ll see.”
By late afternoon, exhaustion finally caught up to me.
Grief. Paperwork. Emotional whiplash. Attraction I didn’t know what to do with.
I climbed the stairs to Rose’s apartment and unlocked the door, stepping into quiet.
