The tension coils tighter between us, thick and unspoken. I force myself to shift gears before it snaps.
“So,” I say lightly, too lightly. “What do you do?”
The corner of his mouth lifts as if he finds the question amusing. “Damage control.”
I squint at him, already knowing that’s all I’m getting. “How long have you known each other?”
“Since we were kids,” he says, and this time the smile reaches his eyes. “He’s like a brother to me.”
He pushes off the counter and takes a few careful steps closer, not invading my space, but close enough to lower his voice. His next words are chosen with intent.
“I know you mean something to him. I can see it in your eyes too,” His gaze sharpens, searching my reaction. “The feeling is mutual.”
My pulse stutters.
“Give him time,” Jaxon continues. “He doesn’t open up easily. He’s lost someone before.”
There’s pain in his eyes when he says it, old, familiar. He lost him too.
“Just don’t give up on him because he doesn’t know how to give everything at once,” he adds quietly. “He deserves a chance.”
“Liam,” I whisper to myself, the name slipping free before I can stop it, too soft for Jaxon to hear, but loud enough to echo inside me.
Before I can find my voice, the front door opens.
Khai steps inside, phone already tucked into his pocket, his expression locked down into something calm and unreadable, as if whatever happened out there never touched him at all.
His gaze finds me instantly.
The look that crosses his face hits me square in the chest. Relief, unmistakable and raw. Then something darker slips beneath it. Something sharp. Almost feral. His eyes drag over me slowly, deliberately, lingering on my bare legs a moment too long, like he’s checking I’m still real. Still here.
“Everything okay?” I ask, my voice steadier than I feel.
He nods once, never looking away. “It will be.”
Notyes. Notnow. A promise deferred, and somehow more unsettling for it.
Jaxon straightens. “I’ll give you two a minute,” he says, already moving toward the door.
As he passes Khai, he murmurs something too low for me to hear. Khai’s shoulders tense, just barely, like a restrained reaction forced back into submission. Then Jaxon is gone, the door closing softly behind him.
We’re alone again.
The silence stretches between us, thick and loaded, pulsing with everything neither of us is saying.
“You shouldn’t be out here barefoot,” Khai says at last.
That’s what he chooses. That’s what breaks the quiet.
“That’s what you’re worried about?” I ask, unable to keep the edge from my voice.
He exhales slowly, like every word costs him something. Like he’s weighing them carefully before letting them go.
“No.”
And the way he says it tells me everything else is far more dangerous.
“Then tell me what it is,” I say, my voice steady despite the tremor coiled beneath it. “Stop keeping me in the dark.”
