The night he’d told me. Drunk. Raw. Confessing the thing that still claws at him in his sleep. He’d spent the next morning avoiding me, convinced I’d see him differently.
I didn’t.
If anything, I understood him more. Maybe that makes me cold. Or maybe I’ve seen enough to know some people don’t deserve to keep breathing.
It never made me think any less of him, or feel any less for him.
But he believed it had. Or maybe just that it should have, and that belief is what broke us—again and again. Every time things got good, he’d tear it all apart before we could settle.
And now we’re back here.
He steps closer, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. His thumb brushes slow, steady circles, and my breath catches.
I don’t move. I don’t pull away.
Whatever this is—this pull, this ache—it locks into place like it always has. Time doesn’t touch it. Distance doesn’t weaken it.
It just waits.
His gaze drops to my lips, and heat floods through me—sharp, immediate. For a few suspended seconds, all I can think about is his mouth on mine. Hard. Soft. Both.
I want him to erase everything with a single kiss.
“Don’t worry,” he murmurs. “I’ll be fine.”
“That doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.”
A smirk ghosts across his lips.
“What’s going on, Reid?”
“It’s not my story to tell.”
“I overheard some of the other guests talking. They were saying that said she has schizoaffective disorder. Bipolar tendencies.”
“That’s not true,” he says flatly. “She’s scared—terrified, even. But she’s not crazy.” He gives a short cynical laugh. “No more than anyone else, anyway.”
I study him, then nod slowly. I believe him. Somehow, those cops hadn’t sat right with me either—the looks they exchanged, the passive aggressive tone of voice, the way they lingered, as if trying to think of another angle to play. Asking probing questions. They weren’t just making a wellness call. They were trying to learn everything they could about the place. Even as Luke tried to move them along, they took their time, watching, listening.
And if her husband has that kind of reach…
Then he could reach Reid too.
“I know,” I say quietly, his touch still burning into my skin. “I know you want to help her. I just don’t want you getting caught in it. You can’t afford to, not with your… past.”
“I won’t. Trust me.”
I swallow. “I’m not sure I can, Reid.”
The words land heavier than I intended, cutting deeper than the moment calls for.
“I’m sorry,” he says softly.
“I know.”
Silence stretches between us.
“You don’t have to keep avoiding me,” I add.