His shoulders filled the doorway, his ball cap in his hands, fingers fidgeting with the brim.
“You should get some rest,” he said softly, the glow from the bedside table lighting the side of his whiskery cheeks.“It’s been a long day.”
“Yeah.You too.”
But neither of us moved.My gaze dropped to his boots and slowly rolled up over his dark jeans, climbing higher across the steel blue shirt that matched the colouring of his eyes.
The silence stretched, held taut by everything we hadn’t said since the roadside.
The question I still couldn’t answer hovered between us.
I looked up.“You’re really hard to read sometimes.”
He blinked.“You think so?”
I nodded.“You’ve got this calm, collected thing going, but I can’t tell if it’s real or just armour.”
A slow smile curved his mouth.“Maybe both.”He stepped closer, enough that the warmth from his body brushed mine.“And you?”he murmured.“You still running from complicated?”
The question landed deep, just like he intended it to.
“I don’t know,” I said truthfully.“Complicated keeps catching up.”
He exhaled, and the sound felt heavier than air.“Anna—”
This should’ve been simple; a goodnight, a thank-you, and a polite step back.
But my heartbeat didn’t get that memo.It was climbing, wild and teenage and stupid, as if the past hadn’t already proven how tangled life could get when feelings fangirled where they didn’t belong.
I had kids.A life.A routine.Stability I fought like crazy to build.
Tristan wasn’t part of that structure.Not one brick of it.
Wanting him felt like leaning over the edge of a cliff; thrilling, terrifying, and yet, impossible to look away from.
And God help me...a part of me wanted to jump.
Tenderly, he cupped the side of my face, his thumb stroking my cheek as the blood in my veins roared to feverish heights.
“We shouldn’t.”
“Then why aren’t you moving?”
Tipping my head down for a breath, I memorized the heat from his thumb, the way his voice sounded when he said my name, and the way his eyes glowed when I barely pulled back.
“Anna?”His voice wasn’t cocky now.It was quiet.Careful.
I could’ve said no.
I almost did.
But his eyes held that patient, gentle waiting I remembered from a lifetime ago, the boy who never rushed me, and the man who still wouldn’t.
My breath trembled.
“I don’t know if this is smart,” I whispered.
“Me neither,” he murmured.“But I’ve wanted to kiss you since I was seventeen.”
