Page 50 of Reckless

I should let go. The thought arrives clean and logical.

Instead, my thumb shifts, brushing once across the inside of her wrist.

I watch her catch her breath, and mine follows a second later.

Jesus Christ!

I don’t know what the hell this is.

I don’t know why every instinct I’ve trusted for years is telling me to put space back between us while every other part of me refuses to fucking move.

It’s uncomfortable.

Not because I want her to step away.

But because I just… don’t.

And honestly, I don’t know what to fucking do with that.

“Oi!” Deek’s voice crashes down the hallway.

“You two planning on solving world hunger in there, or are you bringing the jerky?”

Sage blinks, and the moment fractures. Her eyes drop to my hand as if she’s only just realized it’s still there. “So,” she says quietly.

“So,” I reply, my voice barely audible.

Neither of us moves for another heartbeat, then, regrettably, I let go.

She clears her throat, her fingers lingering against my cheek for the smallest fraction of a second before they fall away. “I really should go.”

“You probably should.”

She gives me one last look, but it is different somehow. I have the feeling we’re both leaving this room with the same damn problem. Then she turns and heads for the kitchen.

The smell of her shampoo hangs in the office after she disappears, and I sit there looking at the doorway longer than I know I should.

I pick up the toothpick she just spent ten minutes giving me hell over, slide it back between my teeth, and realize I’m smiling around it, but I don’t go after her. I’ve learned that whatever she’s carrying, she’ll talk about it when she’s ready. Pushing makes her retreat another step, and I’ve got no interest in being the reason she puts distance between us.

I turn back to the monitors and last all of thirty seconds. My eyes drift to the office doorway instead. I can still see the way she’d walked out—the stiffness through her shoulders, the smile she’d put back on before she reached the kitchen. Four weeks ago, I probably wouldn’t have noticed.

Now that’s a fucking lie.

I’d have noticed.

I just wouldn’t have admitted to myself that I had.

Something’s wrong.

I don’t know what it is yet.

But I will figure it out.

And whatever she’s carrying, whatever’s buzzing against her hip in the middle of a good afternoon and turning her whole face to stone, I intend to find out exactly what it is.

Because somewhere along the way, keeping my distance stopped feeling smart.

And started feeling reckless.