"You should've told me." The words came out strangled.
"I know." Her voice broke. "I'm sorry?—"
"Stop." I reached out. Cupped her face before I could think better of it. Forced her to meet my eyes. "Stop apologizing."
She searched my expression. Looking for anger. For disgust.
She wouldn't find it. What she'd find was worse.
"You're not—" She swallowed hard. "You're not mad?"
Mad didn't begin to cover it. I was furious. At myself. At the situation. At the way my body responded to knowing I'd been her first.
But not at her.
Never at her.
"No." I brushed my thumb across her cheekbone. Felt her tremble. "I'm not mad."
Relief flooded her face, and it gutted me.
She had no idea what I was thinking. No idea that the sight of her blood had ignited something in me I'd buried years ago. Something territorial and brutal and completely unacceptable.
I should tell her this was a mistake. Should walk away before I made it worse. But my hand stayed on her face. My thumb kept stroking. And the heat in my gut kept building.
Because she'd chosen me. Trusted me. Given herself to me. And some sick part of me wanted to keep that gift forever.
I pulled my hand back. The loss of her warmth felt like an amputation.
"I don't deserve this." The words tasted like ash. "Don't deserve you."
Her eyes went wide. Wounded. "Rhys?—"
I stood. Grabbed my hoodie off the floor. Put distance between us before I could change my mind.
"Stay away from me." Each word cut my throat on the way out. "Quit the café."
Silence stretched between us. Heavy. Suffocating.
I forced myself toward the door. One step. Then another. My legs felt like lead.
"Rhys." Her voice cracked on my name.
I stopped. Hand on the doorknob. Every muscle locked tight.
Don't turn around. Don't look at her. Don't?—
"Please."
The word shattered something in my chest. A clean break. Irreparable.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. If I looked back, I'd stay. If I stayed, I'd ruin her worse than I already had.
I twisted the knob. Pulled the door open. "I'm sorry," I said. Barely a whisper. Couldn't manage more than that.
Then I stepped through. Closed the door behind me.
The hallway felt colder than it should. Too bright. Too real.
