Elena froze. Her hands were still on his skin, slick with oil. She looked up.
Their eyes met.
For a second, the years dissolved. The anger, the secret child, the broken bones—it all vanished. There was just the current. The magnetic pull that had dragged them together since high school.
Ryder saw her pupils dilate. He saw the pulse fluttering in her throat.
"Elena," he whispered. It wasn't a question. It was a plea.
He moved his hand. He covered hers, trapping her fingers against his leg.
Her skin was hot. Her hand trembled under his.
"Ryder," she breathed. Her voice was shaky. "Don't."
"You feel it," he said. "Don't tell me you don't feel it. It’s not just the leg."
"It's the endorphins," she said, reciting the textbook. "It's a physiological response to pain relief. It's transferrence."
"It's us," he said.
He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.
"I missed you, Lena. Every day. Even when I was winning. Especially when I was winning."
Elena looked at him. She looked at his mouth. For a terrifying moment, Ryder thought she was going to lean down. He thought she was going to cross the line she had drawn in the sand.
He wanted her to. He wanted her to erase the last six years with one kiss.
But then, the Healer blinked. The Mother came back online.
She pulled her hand away. It was a sharp, tearing motion, like ripping off a bandage.
"The spasm is gone," she said. Her voice was brittle.
She stood up quickly, wiping her hands on a towel she pulled from her pocket. She backed away from the bed, putting distance between them.
"That should hold you until morning," she said. She wouldn't look at him. She was looking at the door. "Drink water. The massage releases toxins. You need to flush them."
Ryder lay there, his leg warm and loose, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs.
"Elena," he said. "Wait."
"Goodnight, Ryder."
She grabbed the jar of salve and walked out. She closed the door firmly.
Ryder listened to her footsteps retreating down the hall. Fast. Running away.
He lifted his hand. He smelled his palm.
Peppermint. And her.
The pain in his leg was gone. But the craving... the craving was a thousand times worse. Because now he knew exactly what he was missing.
He stared at the ceiling.
"Endorphins," he muttered bitterly. "Right."
