Page 6 of Try Line Hearts
He stepped under the spray and let hot water pour over him, head bowed, eyes closed. It sluiced sweat and grass from his skin, loosened the tightness in his shoulders, soaked into his hair until everything smelled clean and anonymous.
If he kept his eyes shut, if he focused on the sound of water hitting tile, he could almost forget the way Kaine’s body had felt beneath his.
Almost forget the heat.
The density.
The brief, devastating familiarity of it.
Almost bury the panic climbing fast and sharp beneath his ribs.
Almost.
Another shower turned on beside him.
Too close.
Byrne stiffened, shoulders drawing tight as if the wall might absorb him if he leaned into it hard enough. He kept his gaze fixed on a single square of pale tile directly in front of him—cracked at one corner, grout darkened with age.
Do not look.
Steam drifted between stalls, softening edges, blurring outlines. He could hear movement now—unhurried, unselfconscious.
He knew without turning.
“You always shower like you’re hiding national secrets?” Kaine’s voice drifted through the steam.
Byrne swallowed. His throat felt dry despite the water running over him.
“I prefer privacy,” he said.
A beat.
“You’re facing the wall like it owes you money.”
Byrne didn’t answer.
He tightened his grip on the soap, grounding himself in the ridiculous normalcy of it.Soap. Water. Tile. This was nothing. This was fine.
The towel shifted.
Byrne’s peripheral vision caught the movement before his brain could shut it down—the barest suggestion of skin, broad shoulders, the line of a collarbone. Kaine was standing there with nothing but a towel looped casually around his neck, damp curls brushing his forehead, utterly unconcerned with modesty.
Byrne locked his gaze harder on the tile.
Do not look.
“Long day?” Kaine asked, quieter now.
“Normal day.”
“Mm.” The sound was thoughtful, unhurried. Then, gently—almost curious: “You always this tense, captain, or am I just lucky?”
The question wasn’t an accusation. It wasn’t even flirtation in the obvious sense.
It was observation.
Byrne’s breath faltered despite his best efforts. The spray beat down harder, or maybe that was just his pulse roaring in his ears.
