“Then how does it work?” he shoots back.
I don’t have an answer.
Because nothing about this feels like anything I’ve ever known.
Safe is steady.
Predictable.
Like Eric.
And look how that turned out.
This?
This is chaos.
Heat.
Something that could burn me alive if I let it.
“You’re leaving,” I say finally, clinging to the one thing that makes sense. “That rugby song—you’re going to take it. You need to take it. So I know you’re not staying here.”
His jaw tightens.
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do,” I whisper. “That’s your world.”
“And this isn’t?” he counters, gesturing around the room—but his eyes stay on me.
“This is mine,” I correct.
Silence stretches between us.
Thick.
Breathing.
“You scare me a little,” I admit before I can stop myself.
Something in his expression softens.
“Good,” he says quietly.
I blink.
“What?”
“Because you scare me, too.”
And that might be the most dangerous thing he’s said yet.
The air in the back room feels thinner.
Like we’ve burned all the oxygen arguing.
“You scare me too,” he repeats.