Page 40 of No Good Fight

“My temporary office has internet.” She lifts the laptop a little. “My apartment has decided to become a pioneer settlement and the power is entirely out. And from here I pick up the free wifi from the building across the street.”

“Only your unit?”

Her expression changes fast enough to make me regret asking without easing into it.

“I don’t know,” she admits quietly.

I look toward the side of the building, where the utility panel sits crooked against the brick near a basement window. The latch looks loose from here.

Alex follows my gaze. “I dislike your face right now.”

“That’s fair.” I shrug and take a step away from her even though it hurts.

“No, I mean your work face. The one that says I’m about to learn a new terrible fact.”

“I’m checking the panel.”

She closes her laptop and stands with the blanket pulled tight around her. “Great. I love educational suffering at other people’s expense.”

I almost smile, then lose it as soon as the panel door opens with one tug.

“Is it supposed to do that?” she asks from behind me.

“No.”

The breaker for her unit is flipped.

Only hers.

I don’t touch it right away. I check the others, the wiring, the smell of the box. No burnt plastic. No trip from anything being overloaded. No storm damage or rain on the inside of the box. Someone opened this panel and cut power to her apartment while she was inside, only hers.

“Ryder,” she says carefully.

I flip the breaker back. “Power should be back on.”

“That wasn’t weather.” She didn’t need to say it, and I don’t need to answer.

“No.”

She stares at the panel, then at me. “How do you always know when something’s wrong?”

I turn, and she’s closer than I expect. Close enough that I can see the damp pieces of hair clinging near her cheek. Close enough to smell rain on her skin and the peach-lilac scent I spent years pretending I didn’t notice at cookouts when she would pass behind my chair or steal fries off Josh’s plate.

I know I should give her the answer she’s asking for. I know it in ways I can’t confess without making myself sound like the kind of man she should run from.

I close the panel and test the weak latch with more care than it deserves.

“You keep trying to talk yourself out of being scared,” I say. “Usually when you should be listening to that voice in your head telling you to run to safety.” To me. I silently add.

Her face shifts, the smart remark catching behind her teeth instead of coming out.

“That is irritatingly accurate.”

“You asked me a question, Allycat.”

“I’m regretting that now.” She rubs her hands together under the blanket, and I take my jacket off before I can talk myself into being less obvious with my feelings for her.

She eyes it almost suspiciously. “Ryder.”