Not to distract her, but to comfort her, and take away the pain.
I wanted to press my mouth to hers like it meant something.Like I could absorb her sorrow if I just held her close enough.Like the hunger I’ve been choking down for weeks wouldn’t wreck both of us if I just let it out.
I wanted to kiss her until she stopped pretending she wasn’t drowning.Until she stopped holding the whole world inside her ribs like it was her job to carry grief alone.
But I didn’t.
Because she was breaking.
And she deserves more than someone who can’t even figure out what to do with his own damage.
So I just sat there—close enough to feel her shaking, close enough to lose my mind over the curve of her mouth—and did nothing.
Which might be the most intimate thing I’ve ever done, but also the most impossible one.Because I want her.
Badly.
I want her pinned to my mattress, hair tangled in my sheets, legs wrapped around my waist like I belong to her.I want her gasping into my mouth, begging for more, her body aching for something only I can give her.And not just for sex—not just for the easy release.
I want to know how she falls apart.How she lets someone help her put it back together.
I want to be the reason she stops pretending she’s fine.
And yeah.That’s the part continues to terrify the fuck out of me.
Because I know how this ends.
It’s the emotional equivalent of loading a gun, handing it over, and saying,Here, try not to shoot me.But it’s fine if you do.I’ll already be gone by the time it hits.
So I sit there.I pretend it’s nothing.
I call it neighborly, like that word will save me from the truth.
But it won’t.
Not when I already know I’m too far gone.
I drag a hand down my face.
“Yeah,” I mutter.“Maybe I am fucked.”
Dex raises both brows, smug as hell.“Told you.”
Barret leans back in the chair like he’s settling in to watch a train derail in real time.“So what are you gonna do about it?”
What am I going to do?
Absolutely fucking nothing.
Starting today, I’ll keep my distance, stay logical.I’ll avoid falling into whatever trap my brain is setting up for me.
Except ...
I already know the truth crawling beneath my ribs:
It’s far too late for that.
“I think I’m getting attached.”
