Page 28 of Twisted Steel

“Some.”

“Some?”

“I hit a brick wall.”Why do I feel embarrassed admitting that to her?

Her eyes lift, but I say nothing.She stares at me for one beat.Two.Then shakes her head.“Of course.”

Alcohol hits the wounds, but I don’t react.She does.Her brows draw tight like my pain offends her, and that bothers me more than the burn.

“Do you feel that?”she asks.

“Yes.”

“You just don’t care?”

“I care.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

I watch her clean blood out of the cuts.Her hands are small compared to mine.Not delicate.Competent.Capable.She has hands that pull people back from the brink of death.Mine put them there.

The difference should keep my head clear, but it doesn’t.

“Why did you call?”I ask.

Her fingers pause.“I told you why.”

“No.You could have called Milo.The police.Dispatch.Anyone.”

She tapes gauze across my knuckles with more force than necessary.“You were close.”

“You didn’t know that.”

“I knew.”My chest tightens.

Her eyes stay on my hand.“I don’t know how.I just knew.”

The confession is quiet, unwilling.She finishes the bandage and lets go too fast.

“There,” she says.“Try not to punch any more architecture tonight.”

“No promises.”

She steps back, but there isn’t much room.Her calves hit the edge of her dresser.She’s trapped only because she moved there herself, but my body reacts anyway.I stand, and she tilts her head back to keep eye contact.

We’re too close now, and her room is too small.The earlier fear still breathing between us, changing shape into something more dangerous.

“You should pack a bag,” I say.

Her gaze drops to my mouth.Just once.“I should do a lot of things,” she says.

Her voice is softer now.Not afraid.Not exactly.I know fear.I’ve smelled it on men before they beg.This isn’t that.This is want trying to claw its way to the top of the emotional pile.

“Harper.”My voice is hoarse

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”