“You’re still the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met,” he’d muttered during one check.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
His laugh had been soft, almost tender. “Go back to sleep, HT.”
And then she remembered venturing downstairs for water right after he’d tucked her in, legs shaky but mind clear enough to freeze at the sound of voices in the kitchen.Hisvoice.
“Besides,today was agood warning of what I don’t want.”
The words felt like a fresh punch against her already aching sternum.
So much for thinking they might ... what? Reconnect? Start over? Rebuild something from the ashes of their past? She’d seen glimpses of the old Jericho since she’d been back—his fierce protectiveness, his dry humor, the way he still knew exactly how to push her buttons.
But maybe that was the problem. They knew each othertoowell. Knew exactly where to find the weak spots, where to press to make it hurt.
What had she said to Winter—they needed to be different people for anything to actually work between them.
The sunshine crept across the frost-laced windows, painting the room in pewter shadows. The blizzard had softened to velvet flakes. She’d always loved this time of day in the dome, when the light had yet to break, when the world held its breath between night and morning.
Harley shifted against the down pillows and tamped down a moan. Thankfully, no more jackhammering behind her eyes, just the lingering ache of—
Okay, she needed to clear her head, stop thinking about what-ifs and if-onlys.
She eased off the mattress, careful not to wake Jericho as she grabbed Kennedy’s quilted robe from the foot of the bed.
The old pine floors creaked beneath her feet. Jericho stirred, and she held her breath. But his eyes remained closed, dark lashes whispering against his cheeks.
He wasn’t the villain she’d painted him as all these years. Hiswords last night to his brothers—the guilt he carried about their father, his regret about staying away—had cracked something in the wall of her anger.
But that didn’t change anything for them. He’d made his feelings clear.
She eased her way down the stairs, the great room collecting a chill with the massive hearth unlit. However, the kitchen glowed with light and the scent of coffee and vanilla. When Harley entered, Kennedy stood at the massive griddle, pouring batter in circles.
“You’re up!” Kennedy’s smile warmed the room. “The guys have already left for the day. Well, except Jericho.”
Harley glanced at the clock. Nearly midmorning.What?
“How’s the head?”
“Better.” Harley sank onto a high-top stool, wrapping her hands around the mug of coffee Kennedy had slid her way. “Although I might have dreamed about Jericho waking me up every two hours to ask who the president is.”
“Probably not a dream.” Kennedy flipped a pancake. “He was worried. You know how he gets.”
“Actually, I don’t. Not anymore.” The coffee scalded her throat. “I’m not his responsibility.”
“Maybe. But according to Sully, you were his first love. And I don’t care how much time has passed. For a man, it’s yesterday. He still sees you as seventeen and irresistible.”
Harley couldn’t stop a sort of laugh. “I don’t think he ever saw me as irresistible. But I like your fantasy.”
“I’m telling you, some things don’t change.” Kennedy pulled plates from the cupboard, her movements precise. “Jericho’s eyes follow you when you walk into a room.”
“Kennedy—”
“Listen, I see things, you know. It’s what makes me a good researcher.” She smiled. “You didn’t see how he practically leapedacross the room last night to help you up? The way he relaxed when you laughed?”
Um, no, she hadn’t. In fact, “Not to pick a fight, but I ... I heard him last night. In the kitchen. He made it pretty clear I’m not what he wants.”
Shoot, this conversation went from lighthearted to too raw just like that. She needed to stop listening to her emotions because Kennedy stilled. “What exactly did you hear?”
