“Fine,” she said, sliding out of the booth. “But this isn’t over.”
Tank paused, wallet in hand. “No?”
She shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “No.” And then she turned and walked out of the diner like she hadn’t just flipped his entire world on its axis. The bell jingled behind her, and silence followed. Tank sat there for a long moment, staring at the door, and then he dropped some cash on the table and stood.
“You’re gonna regret this,” he muttered again to himself. Maybe that was true. Hell, it probably was, but as he stepped outside and looked down the street where she’d disappeared, he didn’t leave. Not yet, at least.
LILLITH
Lillith didn’t go straight home. She told herself she would. She told herself that Ember was probably waiting up, and that she should be responsible for once in her life and not wander around a city she barely knew, but her feet had other plans. They slowed the second she stepped outside the diner and then stopped. Then, without her permission, they turned back toward him. God, she was an idiot.
The neon light from the diner buzzed overhead, casting everything in a flickering glow as she wrapped her arms around herself and stared down the street. She should leave. She should walk away and pretend that none of this mattered. But for some reason, it did, and that was the problem. Tank mattered, and she didn’t even know him.
Lillith huffed out a breath, shaking her head. “Get it together,” she muttered to herself. She took one step away from the diner, then another, and then she heard him call her name.
“Lillith,” Tank shouted into the darkness. Her name stopped her cold, and she turned, slowly. Tank stood just outside the diner door, like he’d followed her out without meaning to. His hands were shoved into his pockets, his shoulders tense, andhis eyes locked on her like she was something he couldn’t quite figure out.
“Yeah?” she asked, trying for casual and failing miserably. He took a step toward her, stopping just close enough that she could see the conflict written all over his face.
“I shouldn’t have asked you to meet me,” he said.
Lillith blinked. “Wow. You really know how to make a girl feel special.”
His jaw tightened. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?” she shot back, crossing her arms. Tank ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated—at her, or at himself, she wasn’t sure which.
“It’s not safe,” he said finally.
“There it is again,” she said, her voice softer this time. “You keep saying that like I’m made of glass.”
“You are compared to what’s coming for me,” he insisted. The words hit harder than she expected them to. For a second, neither of them spoke. The night stretched around them—quiet, heavy, and charged with everything that neither of them was saying.
Lillith swallowed, studying him. “Then maybe you should stop deciding what I can handle, because you don’t know me, Tank.”
Tank’s eyes snapped back to hers. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said.
“And you don’t know me well enough to make that call,” she fired back. Silence fell again, and this time, it was thicker.
He stepped closer—close enough that she could feel his warm breath on her face. He stood close enough that she could feel the heat coming off him, could see the tiny scar just under his eye, and could smell the faint mix of leather and something darker that clung to him. He was so close that her heart started doing stupid things in her chest.
“You should go home,” he said, but his voice didn’t have the same bite it did before.
Lillith tilted her head. “You first.”
His lips twitched, but just barely. “Not how this works. Besides, I don’t have a home to go back to.”
“Says who?” she challenged.
“Says the guy who’s trying to keep you out of trouble,” he said.
She laughed softly. “Too late for that.” Something shifted in his expression, and for a second, she wondered if she had hit a nerve.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” For a moment, she thought he might say more. She thought he might finally tell her what had him so wound tight and ready to bolt at a second’s notice, but he didn’t. Of course, he didn’t, because men like Tank didn’t hand over their secrets. They buried them.
“Look,” she said, softening just a little. “I’m not asking you to spill your life story. I just—” She trailed off, searching for the right words. “I like you.” There, she said it, and there was no taking it back now. Tank went still, completely still, like she’d just said something dangerous.
“You shouldn’t,” he said quietly.
