Page 101 of Blades Out
Ben's smile widened further. "Tonight? Or?—"
"Tonight works."
"Perfect. I know I mentioned tacos, but since it’s Saturday, I thought… Well, there's this Italian place a few blocks from here. Nothing fancy, but?—"
"Sounds good." I turned back to the espresso machine before I could see the full force of his happiness. Before guilt could claw its way up my throat and make me take it back.
Ben deserved someone who wanted him without reservations. Without comparing him to dark eyes and trembling hands and kisses that tasted like desperation.
I'd try. I'd really try. Even if every cell in my body knew I was lying to both of us.
Ben was normal.
The thought settled over me like a blanket—not warm, exactly, but familiar. Comfortable in the way things are when they don't demand pieces of yourself you're not sure how to give.
Ben was safe. He smiled without shadows behind his eyes. Talked without measuring every word like it might detonate. Touched my shoulder in passing and didn't flinch away like the contact burned him.
Ben wouldn't hurt me. Wouldn't kiss me like I was oxygen and then vanish like I was poison. Wouldn't look at me with hunger and guilt tangled so tightly I couldn't tell which emotion won.
Ben wouldn't run.
And that mattered. Had to matter.
I wasn't choosing him purely out of spite—I wasn't that cruel, not to Ben, not to myself. This wasn't about punishing Rhys for his cowardice or proving some petty point about my worth.
But I was choosing to stop letting Rhys Ackerman dictate my emotional life.
I was choosing to stop waiting in empty hallways for a man who couldn't decide if wanting me terrified or disgusted him more. Choosing to stop holding my breath every time footsteps echoed, hoping they belonged to him. Choosing to stop breaking apart every time he walked away.
The truth carved itself deeper with every passing second: I still wanted Rhys.
God help me, I still wanted him. Wanted his careful hands and careful words. Wanted the version of him that pinned me to walls and kissed me like drowning. Wanted whatever fragile thing existed between us that he kept shattering because he was too afraid to hold it.
But I refused to be someone's secret weakness. Someone they touched in darkness and pretended didn't exist in daylight. Someone they kissed and then abandoned.
If Rhys couldn't choose me openly, I'd move forward without him.
Even if moving forward felt like walking away from the only thing I'd wanted in years.
Chapter 20
Rhys
I woke exhausted, bones heavy with a sleep that never came. The ceiling blurred above me—same white expanse, same emptiness. I'd stared at it most of the night, trapped in a loop my mind refused to break.
Olivia's wrists pinned above her head. Delicate bones under my calloused grip. Her pulse hammering against my thumbs.
Her whisper, cracked and desperate: The first time wasn't a mistake to me.
Her kiss—hot and trembling and everything I had no right to take.
My hands on her waist, her hips, sliding up her ribs like I could memorize her through touch alone. My mouth on hers, swallowing her gasps, tasting her need.
Desire slammed into me hard enough I had to brace one arm against the mattress. Heat flooded low and vicious, my body betraying every promise I'd made myself. Every wall I'd built.
Then guilt followed—crushing, suffocating, immediate.
I squeezed my eyes shut and dragged air through clenched teeth.
