The silence stretches, heavy and alive. We're both standing on the edge of something neither of us is ready to say aloud.
The air crackles between us. My hands are clenched at my sides. The line between anger and attraction is razor-thin. I can see her questioning if I'm Bear. While I should let it go and walk away, the part of me that wants her to know wins over.
I say quietly, "You ever get the feeling you're falling for something you shouldn't?"
She freezes. Her eyes search mine, recognition flashing in them.
I've said that to her before.
As Bear.
She takes a step back, blinking. "What did you just say?"
I don't answer.
She stares at me, heart in her throat. I can see the pieces clicking together in her mind. There is no going back, but it is the right thing to put an end to this now. It's already gone too far.
"You," she whispers. "Are you Bear? Or is one of your brothers—?"
"Does it matter?" I ask, but my voice is low now. Worn.
"It matters if you've been lying to me."
"You weren't exactly honest either."
We stand there, locked in the middle of a war neither of us asked for. I don't know if I want to kiss her or tell her to leave and never come back.
"I didn't come here to fight with you," she says after a moment. "And I didn't come to hurt anyone."
"But you are," I say. "Whether you meant to or not."
She swallows hard. "So are you."
That lands, too. Because it's true, I let it go too far. I let myself believe in something sweet in the dark, without thinking what would happen in the light.
Silence stretches. Her eyes flick to my forearms, my tattoos on display. I see the flicker of distraction. Want. My gaze falls to her lips, the way they part slightly as if she's about to speak again, but doesn't.
She reaches for the folder again, probably to leave with it, but I move faster and grab it. Our hands meet again. Her skin is soft, but her grip is steel. The moment holds longer this time. We don't pull away.
"This could've been something," I say, my voice rough.
She looks up at me. "Maybe it still can be. But not like this."
When she turns to leave, she pauses at the door. Her voice drops. "Bear said once that sometimes the best things come when you least expect them."
I inhale sharply. I remember that message. A quiet night. I said it because I meant it.
She studies me as if she already knows the answer. Then walks out the door.
The door clicks softly behind her. Rooted to the spot, I stare at the empty space she left behind. The scent of her still lingers. The air feels both charged and hollow at the same time. I rub a hand down my face, exhaling a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
She's gone. And I'm still standing here, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.
I rub a hand down my face and stare out the window, watching her car reverse down the drive. Gravel crunches beneath her tires, and with every foot she puts between us, the ache in my chest gets sharper.
This shouldn't hurt, but it does—because she’s no longer just the woman doing a job for the developer. She's the woman who laughed with me at midnight, who called me Bear and made it mean something.
Lowering myself slowly into the office chair, the leather creaks under my weight. I stare down at the folder she brought. But I don't open it. I don't think I can. My hands are still shaking.