“Stop it,” he ordered.
“Then leave me alone,” she returned.
Thom sucked in an angered breath as she turned her back on him again and adjusted her blanket, preparing to lie down. “You’re going to have to talk to me eventually,” he said.
She didn’t reply, sinking onto the mattress and slipping her bare feet beneath the blankets.
“We work together,” Thom pressed, refusing to feel awkward as he stood over her bed. “That means you and I need to get along.”
“We can get along without talking to one another.”
He scoffed. “You know, for an old woman, you’re surprisingly immature.”
Sitting on her bed, Brea lifted a brow threateningly.
Thom wouldn’t be put off. “Why are you ignoring this?”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because it’s ridiculous,” he exclaimed. “Brea, you don’t have to avoid me. Of all people, I know Ilain’s accusation was false. Whatever your reasons for saving my life, it wasn’t out of anything resembling romantic affection. I thought we were friends. And I’d still like to be that. So you don’t have to avoid me.”
She tossed him an irritated frown. Then she turned away, keeping her eyes on the far wall.
Thom scowled. “Dammit, Brea, I’m trying to be reasonable.”
“Yelling does convey reason, after all,” she mocked.
“Oh, sod off,” he snapped.
Her gaze flashed to his, dark and cold.
Thom held it unflinchingly. “This isn’t on me,” he said. “We could be perfectly normal right now, but you’re acting as though I’ve done something wrong. Which, unless you count nearly getting myself killed, I haven’t.”
Brea rolled her eyes. “Sit down,” she said flatly.
“What?”
“I’m tired of craning my neck to look up at you. Sit down,” she repeated and gestured to the other bed. “Over there.”
“Are you going to talk to me?”
“Yes.”
Thom took a seat on Rafferty’s mattress.
Brea turned to face him, letting her legs slip from under the blankets and dangle off the edge. She was so short that her toes barely grazed the wooden planks. “Did you ever consider that I don’t like being accused of murder?” she said.
“Of course,” Thom said. “But I’m not the one accusing you.”
She shook her head. “It’sbecauseof our friendship that I’m being accused. And Ilain is right: If I let feelings get in the way of doing my job, my decisionsshouldbe called into question.” Her brows rose. “I’m distancing myself to ensure I can do my job correctly from here on out, Thom.”
Thom stared at her. Dozens of thin, black braids hung around her shoulders, brushing them loosely. Her gray tunic caused her brown skin to appear slightly ashen in the dim room. And she looked startlingly small for such a fierce woman.
“You saved my life, Brea,” he said quietly. “I don’t give a damn what other people think.”
She turned away, looking almost annoyed.
“Whatever anyone else says,” he pressed, “your choice kept me alive. I owe you everything.”
