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“You don’t know what happened.”

“You just told me.”

“I left him there.”

“You walked away from an argument.”

“I should’ve stayed.”

“Maybe.” The answer surprises me. She crouches in front of me. “Maybe you should have. Maybe he should have listened. Maybe the driver shouldn’t have been drinking. Maybe a hundred things should have happened differently.” Her eyes hold mine. “But I don’t think you should have died instead.”

My chest tightens.

I don’t have a joke for that.

Clara reaches for my hand. She doesn’t squeeze it. Doesn’t tell me everything is okay. Just holds it.

I stare at our hands. “You know what your problem is, librarian?”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

“You make it very fucking difficult to maintain my reputation.”

That earns me a smile. “What reputation?”

“Heartless asshole.”

“I don’t think anyone believes you’re heartless.”

“You’ve been back in town one day.”

“Long enough.”

I rub my thumb across her knuckles. “Dangerous thing to say to me.”

“Why?”

I stand, pulling her up with me. She ends up against my chest. Her breath catches. Mine almost does too. “Because you’re starting to sound like you like me.”

Her chin lifts. “I spent twenty thousand dollars on you.”

“For charity.”

“Obviously.”

I smile. “There she is.”

I want to kiss her. Instead, I touch my forehead to hers. Because last night I told her to figure out why she wanted me. And apparently I’m enough of a fucking idiot to give her time to do it.

Her fingers curl into my shirt. “Ryder?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think you’re heartless.”

“Stop saying nice things.”

“Why?”