The knock came sharp and no-nonsense.
My jaw clenched. Every part of me wanted to sink deeper into the couch and pretend I wasn’t home, let whoever it was stand on an empty porch and call it a day.
From the kitchen, cabinet doors clicked shut a little louder than necessary. “You expecting someone?” Clara called.
My leg protested as I pushed to my feet. “No,” I muttered.
Hayes stood on the step in his work jacket and a sweat-dark baseball cap, jaw tight, eyes already checking me for damage. He swept me once, head to toe, taking in the stiffness of my stance, the way I’d braced a hand on the jamb without thinking.
“Austin called,” he said by way of hello. “Said you took a spill. You okay?”
A spill. Like I’d tripped over a curb, not eaten shit on a half-finished staircase and had to get disassembled in front of my crew.
My skin crawled.
“I’m fine,” I said, stepping back to let him in.
He snorted under his breath but came inside, stomping snow off his boots on the mat. “You don’t look fine.”
His gaze pinned me in place.
“So.” He sighed, and his hand gently slapped his side. “What happened?”
“Wet stair,” I said. “Bad footing. I went down. The end.”
His eyes narrowed. “You hurt?”
“Bruised.” I rolled my shoulder like it proved something. “Nothing’s broken.”
He blew out a breath, some of the tightness leaving his shoulders. “Good. Don’t do that shit, man.” His mouth hitched,but there wasn’t much humor in it. “We don’t get to lose you. My mom would haunt my ass for eternity.”
The punch of that landed in the usual spot and hurt in familiar ways.
Then he added, almost offhand, but not really, “Clara would lose her damn mind if you did real damage.”
That one detonated somewhere new.
Clara, on my porch hauling in too much luggage, her face determined as she ripped off the ring. Clara, in my bed this morning, breathy and soft and all in. Clara, at my table an hour ago, asking how my day was like she had a right to know, like she really was my person.
I swallowed and it felt like gravel.
Clara appeared, arms crossed over her chest, shoulders squared like armor.
“So I didn’t imagine it,” she said. “Somethingdidhappen.” Her eyes found mine, sharp and scared and already building a case. “You fell?”
Humiliation surged hot and choking. Being witnessed by one of them had been bad enough. Both at once felt like being pinned to a dartboard.
“I said I’m fine,” I snapped. “Everyone can stop hovering.”
Clara took one step closer, her gaze never leaving my face. “You are not fine,” she said. “Why didn’t you call me?”
Because I didn’t want you to hear me stutter through it. Because I didn’t want you to see the leg come off in the middle of my failure. Because I didn’t want you to have proof of exactly how bad of a bet I truly am.
“Because I didn’t feel like giving a blow-by-blow to my live-in safety committee,” I said instead, the shitty line sliding out slick and sharp.
It hit its mark. Her mouth went tight, eyes going glassy for half a heartbeat before steel dropped in behind them.
Hayes straightened and stepped in. “Hey,” he snapped, voice cutting through the room like a whip. “Don’t fucking talk to her like that.”
