Page 26 of Sweet Violence

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I think I…missedhim, which was fucking absurd. It had been hours, not weeks.

Didn’t stop my brain from pulling him back in anyway.

The slope of his shoulders when he took off his jacket. The way his collar gaped when he leaned over his desk, just enough to expose his pulse. The faint, unmistakable scars against his skin, starting on his hand and creeping up his wrist.

I wanted to trace them.Slowly.Just enough to see what he’d do.

The thought made my pulse kick.

“Archibald.”

I blinked, pulling back into my body. Clearing my throat, I pushed my glasses higher on my nose just to buy myself a second.

“What?”

Mom tilted her head. “You’re blushing.”

Fuck.

“I am not.”

A beat of silence passed between us, and then she nodded like she was willing to accept the lie for now.

“All right. Tell me more about the job.”

“It’s research-based. I read a lot, mostly transcripts. I organize notes and help prep interviews.”

“Sounds like a lot of work.” She hummed. “Are you sleeping eight hours and remembering to eat?”

“Yep.”

“Archibald.” She pinned me with a look that said, ‘I’ve been your mother for twenty-four years; don’t try to lie to me.’

“Mostly,” I amended, and she laughed into her mug.

“Were you going to tell me the handsome professor you’re working under isHenry Rothwell?”

My shoulders went rigid before I could stop them.

The thought of Henry—of beingunderhim in any context—did something dangerous to my focus.

“I didn’t think it mattered.”

Mom’s brows drew together, just enough to signal she didn’t buy what I was selling.

“You didn’t think it mattered…”

“It’s just a job,” I said, a little too quickly. “Who I’m doing it for doesn’t change the work.”

It changes…something.Just not anything I’m ready to say out loud.

“Or… you didn’t think I needed to worry.”

My grip tightened on the edge of the counter. “I didn’t want it to be a thing. He’s… public. Everyone already has an opinion. I didn’t see the point in adding another.”

“When you decide something ‘doesn’t matter,’ it usually means it matters more than you’re ready to name.”

I didn’t trust myself to answer.