He didn’t stop.
Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t look around like everyone else.
He moved like a man on a mission.
I paused the clip again and stared at the screen until my eyes burned.Nothing new.
I let out a long breath and closed the laptop.The room went dimmer instantly without the glow of the screen, and I stretched both arms above my head, groaning when every muscle in my shoulders protested.
“Your concussion like that?”Push asked.
I looked over at him.
He was still in my doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest like he’d been carved there.Everyone else had left after Anchor told me to keep working the footage but not overdo it.Pearl had hugged me, Shay had told me to holler if I needed anything, Prime had dragged Shay away before she could mother me any harder, and Anchor had ordered Push to stay close.
As if Push had needed the order.
He’d been close all night.Like a wall with tattoos and judgmental eyebrows.
“My concussion and I are not currently speaking,” I told him.
“Probably for the best.”
“I think it’s mad I used my brain too much.”
“You did stare at a screen for hours after cracking your head open last night.”
I pointed toward the laptop.“That screen helped me find your mystery man.”
“It did.”
“You’re welcome.”
His mouth twitched.“I said thank you.”
“No, you said, ‘Good catch.’That is not the same as thank you.”
“It was implied.”
“I’m a woman.I need words.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
Oh, wow.Bad wording.Very bad wording.I closed my eyes for half a second.“Ignore that.”
“Nope.”
“Push.”
“That one’s staying.”
I grabbed the pillow beside me and tossed it at him.He caught it one-handed because of course he did.
“Show-off,” I muttered.
He walked into the room and tossed the pillow back onto the bed beside me.“You tired?”
