Page 145 of His Reckoning

The Manhattan skyline looks the same as it always does. Sharp, ordered, and predictable—exactly the way I like things.

Except my brain refuses to cooperate. Rather than focusing on work, I keep going back to last night—to that restaurant.

The table full of loud voices and overlapping conversations, and the smell of garlic and tomato sauce filling the entire place, and Kayla sitting across from me. Laughing with my sisters like she’d known them for years.

Brooklyn asking her questions about writing. Hudson leaning over to make some dry comment that made her laugh again.Even my father watching the two of us like he was trying to figure something out.

I hadn’t realized how long it had been since I’d sat at that table. And somehow, Kayla had walked into that room like she belonged there.

Which was … unsettling.

For the first time in a long time, sitting there didn’t feel like being dragged back into something I’d spent years distancing myself from.

For a few minutes, it almost felt … normal. Then Dad mentioned Tony.

My jaw tightens slightly at the memory.

Just hearing his name was enough to send everything in my head spiraling again.

The noise of the restaurant fading into the background. That familiar pressure building in my chest.

The one that usually means I should leave before the memories start pushing their way in.

Except, this time, I didn’t leave. This time, I had something else waiting for me.

Kayla.

The thought sends a strange, restless energy through my body

The second we got home, everything that had been building all night snapped.

The kiss … the way she looked at me like she knew exactly what she was doing.

She always manages to pull me out of my own head before things get too far.

For the first time in years, the memories didn’t follow me into the night.

Jordan clears his throat. “Do you want me to keep going?”

I blink rapidly. Right … work.

“Yeah,” I say, sitting up straighter.

He starts explaining something about projected revenue again.

I try to focus, but another memory cuts through the numbers.

Kayla’s face last night. Not during the sex.

After.

When she realized I wanted her to leave the bed.

I shift slightly in my chair.

That look stuck with me.

Confusion, mixed with a flicker of hurt she tried to hide. The kind of reaction I’d seen a hundred times before.