Page 85 of Flint’s Strike

“Go ahead.” I rummage in one of the kitchen drawers for a corkscrew. “You can sit...if you want. This kitchen’s a tight fit for two people.”

“I don’t mind being close to you.” The rough tone to his voice sends heat crawling up my neck to my cheeks. “But if I’m in the way…”

“You’re not.” Our eyes meet briefly. I hold the wine bottle like a shield in front of me, still not sure where we stand after yesterday morning. We both apologized. But there’s so much more I need to say to him.

Bracing the bottle against my hip, I peel off the foil and start threading the corkscrew. After two turns, my hand simply…gives up. The ache from this afternoon flares so quickly, it steals my breath.

“You all right?” Eliot takes a step closer, concern pinching his brows.

“Fine. I just remembered how much I hate this corkscrew. Mind finishing it up? I’ll get the glasses.” I practically thrust the bottle at him, the tool sticking up at an awkward angle, and breathe a sigh of relief when he takes it without question.

Of course, he makes the damn thing look easy. It is easy. For anyone who doesn’t have nerve damage they hide from the world. And who didn’t spend the entire day working their hands past the point of exhaustion.

I manage not to drop the glasses, and Eliot pours for both of us.

“To startin’ over?” He lifts his glass, hope lighting up his brown eyes.

“I don’t want to start over. Our first kiss was pretty damn hot. Seems a shame to pretend it didn’t happen.” This smile is easier. Lighter. “To not running away from the things that scare us.”

He pauses, the glass wobbling in his hand.

Shit. I got too real, too fast.

But after what must be a full three seconds, he nods. “To doin’ the scary shit. And stayin’.”

We toast, standing in the middle of my tiny-ass kitchen, the heat from the stove flushing my cheeks.

“Is it any good?” he asks. “The wine? I can’t remember the last time I bought a bottle.”

“It’s…red?”

We stare at one another for a beat, then we both start laughing at the idea that we’re drinking something we know nothing about, simply because we’re supposed to.

“I have Shiner,” I offer. “If you’d rather…”

“Maybe later.” He slides his hand into my hair, leans closer, and brushes his lips to mine. It’s a tame kiss by any standards, but it settles a part of me that’s been on edge since yesterday morning.

I gesture to the couch. “We could relax for a bit. The stew won’t mind.”

Eliot follows me, sitting close enough our knees would touch if we moved even an inch. He takes another sip of wine, then stares into the glass like it holds all the answers in the world. “About yesterday…”

“We don’t have to⁠—”

“Yes. We do.” He sets the glass on the coffee table and runs a hand through his hair. “The broken parts of me can’t be fixed. I’ll have pain every day for the rest of my life, and there ain’t a damn thing you—or anyone—can do about it.”

His voice gets softer with every word.

“But that don’t mean I get to snap at you. Or storm off and slam the door like a five-year-old.”

“So…why’d you do it? I wasn’t trying to fix you, Eliot. I know burns don’t heal like other wounds. But I’m also human. Seeing a man I care for in pain… What else was I supposed to do? Say nothing?”

“No. That’s why I’m tryin’ to apologize.” He lifts his gaze, and the raw emotion in his eyes squeezes my heart until it aches. “You didn’t do anything wrong. The only people who’ve seen me without a shirt on since”—he rubs his sternum with his knuckles until his breath settles—”in seven years, are doctors, nurses, and physical therapists. I don’t go to the gym. I wear long sleeves and pants no matter how hot it is outside. Hell, I don’t even look at myself in the mirror after I shower. And then you come along and just…accept everything about me that’s broke without batting an eye.” Reaching for his wine, he takes another healthy swig. “I think I was scared that you saw the ugly truth of what I live with every day and changed your mind.”

I lean closer, resting my free hand carefully in the center of his chest. “This okay?”

He nods.

“I haven’t changed my mind. If things don’t work out between us, it sure as shit ain’t gonna have anything to do with your body. We clear on that?”