Page 193 of Override

Despite the tears running down my cheeks, I stare at him. "Rachel told you that?"

"Repeatedly."

"And you didn't agree?"

"No." The answer is immediate. Something in my chest twists.

Keaton looks toward the window for a second before his gaze returns to mine. "I still don't." My breath catches. "But I told her I would defer to her expertise."

"Her expertise?"

"She understands people better than I do."

A watery laugh slips out of me. Keaton doesn't smile. His eyes remain fixed on my face. "I don't want to take you back."

The words are quiet now.

All the humor leaves me. "Then why would you?"

"Because I won't do to you what he did."

My lips part.

Keaton's jaw works once before he continues. "I won't decide where you're allowed to go. I won't decide who you're allowed to talk to. I won't tell you that you can't leave because I think I know what's better for you." His fingers twitch at his side. Once. Twice. "I don't understand why anyone would choose to go back to someone who made them afraid in their own home. I don't understand why you would want to be anywhere near him." His voice becomes rougher. "But I don't have to understand your choice to respect that it's yours."

I can't stop crying now. I hate it. I wipe at my cheeks, but more tears replace the ones I remove.

"What if I went back and changed my mind?"

His expression shifts. "Then you leave."

"What if he doesn't let me?"

"He won't get that option."

The certainty in his voice makes my heart pound harder.

"But what if I can't call you?"

"I'll be listening."

My eyes close. The bathroom. The microphone. The only room where I'd ever believed I could speak to him.

When I open my eyes again, Keaton has moved closer, but there's still space between us. Always space. Always enough room for me to choose.

"Maeve?" I look at him. "Can I touch you?"

The question breaks something inside me. I nod through the sob caught in my throat. Keaton closes the distance between us.

His hands rise slowly, giving me enough time to change my mind before his palms settle against my cheeks.

The touch is exactly the way I remember it from last night. Warm. Careful.

His fingers curve gently into my hair as his thumbs brush beneath my eyes, catching tears he doesn't seem to know what to do with.

His gaze holds mine. "If you go back, I won't like it." A laugh breaks through my tears. His expression stays serious. "I'll probably become extremely unpleasant to be around."

"More unpleasant?"