Every nerve in my body lit up.
Then he stopped.
Control snapping back into place.
“Dangerous timing,” he said quietly.
I swallowed. “Grief does strange things.”
“Yeah,” he said. “It does.”
But he didn’t move away.
And neither did I.
Our knees pressed together now, heat building between us. My heart thudded so hard I was sure he could feel it.
“You regret saying it?” he asked.
“No.”
His gaze held mine.
“Good,” he murmured.
Another beat.
Then he shifted back just enough to break the spell.
“We go tomorrow morning,” he said, voice back to business.
The sudden change of topic almost made me laugh.
Almost.
“Okay.”
He stood, grabbing his jacket.
Disappointment hit harder than I expected.
You are ridiculous.
He moved toward the door, then paused, glancing back at me.
“You going to be okay tonight?”
The question was simple.
But the concern behind it wasn’t.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
A beat.
Then, because apparently my filter was permanently broken now:
“I’d be better if you stayed.”
