“Then I’m not going.” My fingers find the rubber bands on my wrist as I hold the kitten, and I manage to snap one, soft and quick. He notices. He doesn’t miss a thing.
His gaze drops. When he looks back up, there’s something in his expression I don’t have a safe name for.
“You’re shakin’,” he says quietly.
“Wow. Nothing gets by you.”
“Reva.”
There’s no tease in it. Just my name and too much seeing.
“I’m not leaving him.”
I should keep the distance between us. I know that. Last night was already a mistake I don’t know how to file—comfort and sex and feeling all braided together until I couldn’t tell what I was allowing and what I was taking because I needed not to be alone in the dark.
He takes one step closer anyway, slow enough to let me stop him if that’s what I want. I don’t.
His hand lifts, hesitates, then closes around my wrist—the one with the bands. His thumb slides once over the angry red line I raised there earlier.
The touch is light but it lands like a strike. I suck in a breath and glare at him because glaring is safer than leaning in.
“Don’t,” I whisper, and I’m not even sure what Imean.
Don’t be gentle.
Don’t make this harder.
Don’t act like last night mattered.
His eyes drop to the cat, and he sighs. “It’s fine, Yank. I’ll take care of him. But you’re about to walk into a room with Nash looking like you’re one loud noise from breaking apart.”
Anger flares hot and immediate, mostly because he’s not wrong. “I’m not breaking.”
“I know. Heaven forbid.” His grip tightens a fraction, grounding instead of restraining. “That’s not the same thing as being steady, though.”
The words hit too close. I look away first.
The lot is humid and rank and dimly lit and suddenly too small for everything happening inside my chest. I can still feel the ghost of his mouth at my throat from the night before. I can still hear Ever telling me to leave before it’s too late. I can still taste my own humiliation.
The kitten shifts in my arms, letting out a soft, questioning chirp.
My voice comes out thinner than I want. “Did he tell you to come get me?”
Shiloh is quiet for a beat. “Nash did.”
Not what I asked.
I lift my eyes back to his. “That’s not what I meant.”
He studies me, jaw working once, like he’s deciding whether to lie clean or tell the kind of truth that causes trouble.
“Ever’s complicated. Don’t let him bother you.”
Then, because apparently he’s determined to ruin my life, he reaches up with his free hand and brushes his knuckles along my cheek.
Barely there. Just enough to catch the wet shine at the corner of my eye before I can turn away.
Humiliation burns through me so fast I jerk back. “I’m not crying.”
