When I pull back, his eyes are closed. Water runs down his face like tears.
"Jinx—"
"This changes nothing." Panic rises in my chest at the way he says my name. "What happened tonight. It changes nothing."
His eyes open. The softness is gone, replaced by walls slamming back into place.
"Yeah." He steps back, putting distance between us. "I figured."
I turn off the water and step out of the shower. Grab a towel and toss him one. We dry off in silence, the easy intimacy of before replaced by awkward tension.
This is what I wanted. This is what I told myself I needed. Keep the walls up. Don't let him in. One night to get it out of our systems, and then we go back to being soldiers with a mission.
So why does it feel like I just fucked up the only good thing to happen to me in years?
I pull on my pants and head for the door. His voice stops me.
"Jinx."
I don't turn around. "What?"
"If it changes nothing, why'd you kiss me like that?"
I don't have an answer. So I leave without giving him one.
Back in my room, I lie on my bed and stare at the ceiling. My lips tingle where they touched his. My skin burns where he marked me. My chest aches with want I refuse to name.
This changes nothing.
I keep telling myself that until the sun comes up.
It doesn't make it true.
Chapter Four: Asher
JinxHarrisonisaGoddamn liar. A good fuck, but a terrible liar.
"This changes nothing." That's what he said. Then he kissed me like I was everything, washed my back like it meant something, and walked out of my room with his walls rebuilt and his heart locked up tight.
Bullshit.
I've been lied to by professionals. Handlers, Custodians, men in expensive suits who promised purpose and delivered cages. I know what lies look like. I know how they taste.
Jinx's lies taste like fear.
I don't blame him. I get it. Caring about someone is dangerous when you've spent your whole life being used. When every attachment becomes a weapon someone can turn against you. When the last time you loved something, they probably made you watch it burn.
But watching him pretend last night didn't crack him open the same way it cracked me? That's going to get old real fast.
I didn't sleep after he left. Just lay there, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment. The way he touched me. The way he looked at me when he thought I couldn't see. The way his voice sounded as he came inside me.
That wasn't nothing. That was everything. And he knows it, which is exactly why he's running.
The sun is barely up when I hear the van pull into the yard. My people. Right on time.
I pull on clothes, wincing at the scratches on my back that pull with every movement, and head downstairs. I pass Jinx's closed door without slowing. If he wants to hide, let him hide. I've got work to do.
The kitchen smells like coffee and bacon. Elliot is at the stove again, because apparently the man can't stop feeding people, and Jace is sitting at the table cleaning a truly impressive collection of knives. Jonah is slumped over a mug like he's waiting for the caffeine to resurrect him from the dead.
