breathe.
I bring it to my lips, the cold biting against my mouth?—
And then I feel it.
That shift.
Like the air pulls tighter.
Like something just walked into the room that changes the temperature.
I don’t turn right away.
I don’t need to.
“Funny,” Isa says behind me.
Her voice is soft.
Sweet.
That Texas drawl wrapping around her words like honey?—
—but there’s something under it.
Sharp.
Controlled.
Venom dressed up in silk.
“I thought I had this all figured out.”
I close my eyes for half a second before turning.
Slow.
Measured.
She’s leaning against the wall like she belongs there. Like she belongs anywhere she decides to stand.
Boot still on.
Crutches propped beside her.
But nothing about her looks injured.
Her hair falls in perfect waves over her shoulders, glossy under the harsh lights. Makeup flawless—soft pink lips, long lashes, skin glowing like she just stepped out of a photoshoot instead of rehab.
Even now… she’s put together.
Intentional.
Her eyes drag over me.
Not quick.
Not casual.
