Her gaze lingers on mine. Longer this time. Then her brow furrows slightly, like something just occurred to her. “What’s your name?” she asks.
“Cobra.”
Her lips part slightly. There’s no immediate fear. Just confusion. “Why do they call you that?”
I watch her for a second. She’s still too pale. Still too shaken under the surface, even if she’s holding it together better than most would. “That’s a story for another time,” I say. “You’re not ready for that one yet.”
She studies me like she might push. Then decides not to.
Smart.
Her gaze shifts around the room. Taking in the space. The bed. The door. The fact that she’s in it with me. Something flickers across her face. Not panic. Not exactly. Awareness. “I fell asleep in here,” she says.
“You did.”
“With you.”
“Yes.”
She lets out a small breath, like she’s trying to process that without letting it spiral. Her eyes flick back to mine. Something settles in them again. Not fully understanding. Not fully acceptance. But not rejection either. That matters. I shift slightly, easing her back just enough to sit up. She follows, slower, still careful with her movements.
“I’ve gotta go to church,” I say.
She blinks. Then she laughs. It’s quiet. Still a little rough. But real. “Church?” she repeats.
“That funny?”
“I just… wasn’t expecting that from you.”
“Not that kind of church,” I tell her.
Her lips twitch slightly. “Figures.”
I nod toward the bathroom. “Brooke grabbed you clothes. They’re in there. You can shower. Lock the door. No one’s got a key but me.”
Her eyes narrow slightly at that. “Reassuring.”
“It’s meant to be.”
She considers that. Then nods once. “Okay.”
“Brooke’ll come check on you,” I add. “I’ll be back soon.”
Her gaze lingers on me again. Something softer this time. Something that makes my chest tighten in a way I don’t like.
I don’t move for a second. Just look at her.
Her face is still too pale, but there’s color coming back slowly. Her lips are soft, full, slightly parted like she’s about to say something else and hasn’t decided if she should.
I want to take them.
The thought hits hard. Immediate. Not a suggestion. Not curiosity.
Want.
Her eyes flick to my mouth like she felt it. Like she knows. And for a second she doesn’t pull away. That’s the problem. That’s the line.
I shift away before I cross it. Not yet. Not like this. I lean in just enough to press a kiss to her forehead. Soft. Controlled.
