He’s quiet.
Too quiet.
My stomach twists harder than it did in the office as we make it halfway down the hall before I stop walking.
He turns immediately. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry,” I blurt.
His brows lift. “For what?”
“For not telling you.” My voice feels thin. “About…that.”
He exhales slowly, shoulders dropping as he steps closer. His hands wrap around mine, warm and steady.
“I’m not angry,” he says gently. “Not hurt. Just confused why you thought you had to keep it from me.” His mouth quirks slightly. “I mean… we had sex. I thought you enjoyed it.”
“I did.” The words come fast. “God, Kaden, I did. Being with you is incredible. It’s just… leading up to it. The need wasn’t as strong as it normally is. That’s all. My mind wanted you desperately, but my body didn’t feel the same rush beforehand.” I swallow. “It has nothing to do with you.”
His expression softens immediately. “Okay,” he says simply.
I blink. “Okay?”
He pulls me into him without hesitation, arms wrapping around my back, holding me close. His lips brush mine, slow and reassuring, before he leans back enough to meet my eyes.
“Something’s going on with your body,” he says, tapping lightly over my ribs. “I’m not going to take that personally. What kind of man would I be if I judged you for your hormonesmisfiring?” His thumb strokes along my cheek. “When we were together, you were there, I felt that. So I’m not worried.”
Emotion rises so fast it almost steals my breath.
“But,” he adds gently. “Don’t keep things from me, even if you think it might hurt my feelings. I want to know what’s happening with you.”
My forehead presses against his. “You’re incredible.”
He chuckles softly, kissing the tip of my nose. “Effa, you mean more to me than you realize. I’m here, no matter what.”
Three months.
It feels like both yesterday and a lifetime ago. I can barely remember who I was beforehim.
Before the tour.
Before the incident.
Before everything shifted.
“I guess we should get this over with,” I murmur.
His hand slides into mine again. “Yeah, let’s go.”
And together, we head toward the nurses’ station.
***
After a night in a five-star hotel where I made very sure Mercs understood just how much I still want him, how fiercely my mind craves him, even if my hormones are currently confused—we’re back in Dr. Wakefield’s office.
The contrast is almost laughable.
Champagne and silk sheets replaced by sterile walls and medical charts.
