I freeze.
Shit.Of course, he heard me. I don’t know why I thought I could slip away unnoticed when he seems incapable of missing anything, especially when it involves me.
I turn around to find Echo propped up on one elbow, rubbing his eyes like he’s trying to orient himself to the room. His hair is a mess, flattened on one side, and there’s a faint crease between his brows.
“Sorry,” I say quietly. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
I glance down at the floor, suddenly very aware of how close this moment is to becoming something I don’t know how to navigate. My teeth sink into my lower lip.
He watches me for a minute, then asks. “You okay?”
It’s a simple question. There’s no pressure behind it or expectation, but it still catches me off guard.
“I’m fine,” I say automatically.
It’s not a lie. It’s just not the full truth. I’m very far from okay, but not for the reasons he’s probably thinking.
If he senses the deception, he doesn’t call me on it. Instead, he shifts and sits up a little straighter.
“I should head out.” He says.
There it is. The out. Relief should follow. That’s usually how this goes. Someone offers distance. I take it gratefully and wrap it around myself like armor. Except… I don’t want that from him.
I look up at him before I can catch myself. “Oh,” I say, clearing my throat.
Echo’s gaze flicks to my face, then away again. I can tell he’s purposely not trying to add pressure to the moment.
“You had a rough night.” He adds. “You probably want some privacy.”
I nod because that makes sense. Because it’s reasonable. Because he’s handling this with more care than I expected him to.
“Are you hungry?” I ask suddenly.
The words come out louder than I intend, and I inwardly cringe at myself.
Echo looks at me.
“There’s a cafe down the block,” I continue. “I was going to go anyway.”
I shrug, trying to act nonchalant. “You could come with. If you want.”
I brace for him to question me. To poke and prod until he understands exactly what I’m thinking. Surprisingly enough, he doesn’t.
“Okay.” He says, giving me a nod.
Some of the awkwardness dissipates and the tightness in my chest loosens.
I grab my hoodie from the back of a barstool and pull it on, suddenly grateful for something to do with my hands. Echo stands too, moving easily through my space.
As we head for the door, I catch a glimpse of us reflected in the hallway mirror. Me, still puffy-eyed and rumpled. Him, dark and solid and entirely too pretty in the morning light.
Christian is still out there.
Nothing about that has changed.
But I don’t feel like I need to crawl into a hole and hide. And I think I have Echo to thank for that.
