Caiden shifted, a low grunt escaping him, but he didn’t wake fully.
My body sighed as it sank into the soft indifference of the bed. Relief washed over me, and sleep pulled me under before I remembered where I was, or who lay beside me.
Sunlight spilled through the blinds, strips of gold striking my face. I stretched, blissfully unaware, until warmth, unexpected and startling, bloomed against my side.
My heart jolted awake, muscles tensing in panic. I snapped my eyes open and froze. His arm was draped across the mattress, fingertips brushing mine, his skin hot against my temple.
“Oh my god!” The shriek tore from me as I bolted upright. Caiden shot up too, blinking in confusion.
My cheeks burned as I scrambled to yank my T-shirt down, tug my pajama shorts into place. The room felt smaller, the air too thick. I pressed my back to the wall, staring at him in horrified silence.
He cleared his throat, voice low: “Didn’t we agree to sleep separately?”
“Yeah.” My voice came out tight and breathless. “But the floor was killing my back, so I fell asleep. Let’s just forget it happened.”
“I’m not planning on reminding you,” he said, eyes still avoiding mine.
I didn’t wait for more. I ducked into the bathroom, the door clicking softly behind me, and leaned against the cold tile, letting the chill chase the heat from my skin.
I splashed water onto my face, watching droplets pebble my skin in the warped mirror. My reflection looked nothing like the girl I remembered. Too pale, shadows bruising the hollows beneath my eyes, hair wild around my head like a warning. My hands shook.
I gripped the edge of the sink until my knuckles blanched, willing the tremors to recede.
It was a mistake to come here. Seven years of distance, and I still couldn’t bear the sight of him. My stomach twisted as I thought of the night before, the warmth of his arm, the way my own traitorous body had sunk into the hollow he made.
I dried my face with a scratchy towel and cracked the door. Caiden was up, already dressed, his back to me as he packed his bag. His movements were stiff, every muscle woundtight beneath the faded Army T-shirt. He looked like he was preparing for a battle, not a car ride.
Neither of us spoke. We’d perfected the art of silence.
My clothes were folded in a pile at the foot of the bed. I scooped them up and retreated to the bathroom, changing quickly, wishing for armor. My hands lingered on the zipper, hesitant to return to that room, to share air with him again.
When I emerged, he was standing by the window, peering through the bent blinds at the parking lot. His posture was tense, jaw set, eyes narrowed at nothing in particular, like he could will the rest of the world into combusting if he only stared hard enough.
He didn’t acknowledge me, but I caught the way his jaw flexed when I set my bag on the bed.
I wanted him to say something, to break the spell, to ignite the fight I knew was waiting for us on the tip of every word.
Instead, he spun away from the window and slung his duffel over his shoulder, exhaling like he’d just finished a set at the gym.
“Ready?” he muttered, not quite a question.
I bristled. “Yeah.”
He brushed past me with the same chill he always carried. His shoulder clipped mine, a jolt of real contact that left me shivering.
Outside, the morning was cold, the sky smeared with cloud, the parking lot empty except for our car and a station wagon that looked abandoned.
I saw Sabrina jog-walking in place, arms pumping, her hair a halo of fizz in the damp. Shane stood next to her, hands in the pockets of his hoodie. He flashed us a grin, like the world wasn’t caving in.
When they saw us approach, Sabrina hopped down and called, “Sleep well, lovebirds?” Her smile was wide, guileless, she meant nothing by it.
But I felt Caiden’s stride falter just a fraction, and my cheeks flamed.
“Like rocks,” I deadpanned, keeping my eyes on the patchy grass underfoot.
Sabrina grinned, but beneath her surface cheer, I noticed the quick dart of her eyes between Caiden and me.
“So? Anything happen?” Sabrina inquired while the men were chatting.
