He drops back against the wall, gasping, scrambling to get his footing.
“Get out,” I tell him.
He doesn’t hesitate.
He runs.
I don’t watch him leave.
I turn back to her.
My hand comes up to her face this time, cupping her jaw, my thumb brushing once over her cheek.
“You okay?” I ask.
Her eyes search mine for a moment, then she nods.
“I’m okay.”
I hold her gaze for a second longer, then lean in, pressing a slow, firm kiss to her mouth.
When I pull back, my hand slides back to her waist.
“Let’s go home.”
The apartment is quiet when we get back.
Too quiet.
The kind of quiet that feels earned.
I don’t take my hand off her until we’re fully inside, the door shut behind us, the outside world finally cut off.
Only then do I let her go.
“Sit,” I tell her, my voice softer now, but still firm.
She watches me for a second. Then does it.
I move through the space without thinking, checking doors, windows, everything out of habit before I finally settle again, leaning back against the counter.
Waiting.
We don’t talk much.
We don’t need to.
The energy in the room is still too full. Still too close to the surface. It’s not long before the door opens again.
Jackson first.
Then Zach.
Both of them carrying the same residual adrenaline I can still feel in my own body.
Jackson’s gaze goes straight to her.
“Hey,” he says, softer now. “You okay?”
