“You were never like that with me,” she says. “Right from the beginning.” There’s no accusation in her tone anymore, just hurt. “It’s like you looked at me once and decided you hated me.”
“I don’t hate you, Wynter,” I say immediately.
Her eyes meet mine again, glassy and uncertain. “I feel like I’m constantly trying to catch up with you,” she admits quietly. “Like I’m not good enough to be in your world.” She gives a small shrug, but it doesn’t hide the crack in her voice. “And then you talk like I’m not in the room, or make decisions without me, and it just . . .” She looks away briefly. “It confirms it.”
Something ugly twists low in my chest, because I did that without even realising. “Wynter—”
“You make me feel inferior,” she whispers, like she hates saying it out loud.
“Christ.” The word leaves me roughly. I close the distance between us before I can stop myself, gently taking her hands in mine. They’re cold. “That is the last thing I ever wanted you to feel.”
She watches me carefully now, mistrust still lingering in her expression like she’s waiting for me to prove her right again.
“The truth is,” I murmur, “I wanted you from the second I saw you.” Her brows pull together slightly. “And that terrified me.” I let out a quiet breath, my thumbs brushing over her knuckles. “You walked into my life and suddenly everything felt . . .” I shake my head, searching for the word. “Unstable.”
Her lips part slightly, but she stays silent.
“So, I pushed you away,” I admit. “I kept things cold. Controlled. Because if the lines blurred, I knew I’d lose my head over you.” Emotion flickers across her face so quickly I almost miss it. “But I couldn’t stay away from you either,” I continue more quietly. “Even when I knew I should.”
I swallow hard, holding her gaze. “And that’s the problem, Wynter.” A weak, almost disbelieving laugh escapes me. “I’vebeen fighting this from the start while you’ve been thinking I didn’t care at all.”
Her throat moves as she swallows. I watch the emotions shift across her face one after another—hurt, confusion, disbelief.
Hope.
Slowly, I lift my hand. Every instinct in me expects her to pull away. She doesn’t. My knuckles brush softly against her cheek, and a faint exhale leaves her.
Christ.
I don’t think she understands what she does to me. Or maybe she does, and that’s the dangerous part.
My thumb strokes jaw, my fingers curling behind her neck gently, and I realise my heart is pounding hard enough to make my chest ache. “I never wanted to make you feel small,” I murmur.
Her eyes search mine carefully. “But you have.”
The honesty in it hurts more than anger would. I nod once. “I know.”
I can feel her warmth standing this close, see the rise and fall of her chest. Smell the faint trace of vanilla that always seems to cling to her skin. My gaze drops to her mouth. Wynter’s breath catches slightly. “Tell me to stop,” I say quietly.
She just stands there staring at me with those guarded eyes and parted lips, and it feels dangerously close to permission. I lean in slowly, giving her every chance to move. Every chance to end this.
But she stays exactly where she is.
My forehead brushes hers softly, and the contact alone nearly wrecks me. I close my eyes briefly, breathing her in. This close, I can feel the slight tremble in her body.
Or maybe it’s mine.
“Ray . . .” she whispers.
The sound of my name in her voice drags something possessive and desperate from deep inside me.
I tilt my head slightly, my nose brushing hers, my mouth only inches from hers now—
Then suddenly she steps back.
The loss of her warmth is immediate.
Brutal.