Page 153 of His Reckoning

The sensation pulls the last thread of control out from under me.

I bury my face against her shoulder as the tension finally snaps, my hands gripping her tighter as the release crashes through me.

The only sound in the room is the steady spray of the shower and our breathing trying to slow.

Kayla’s arms loosen slightly around my neck as she exhales shakily.

I keep holding her there, chest rising and falling hard while the last waves of adrenaline fade.

For a long moment, neither of us moves.

The water continues to fall around us, steam curling through the shower while our breathing slowly steadies.

Kayla’s forehead rests against my shoulder, her arms still loosely wrapped around my neck.

I keep holding her there, not ready to let go yet.

Eventually, she shifts slightly, her hand sliding down my back again.

Not exploring this time. Just resting there. The moment her palm brushes the raised skin near my shoulder blade, every muscle in my body tightens again.

She notices. I know she does.

Her hand stills instantly, and a few seconds pass.

She slowly moves it away, like she’s pretending she didn’t feel anything unusual at all.

My jaw tightens. Now the questions are sitting in the space between us, and she’s not asking them.

Kayla pulls back just enough to look at me, her cheeks flushed and her hair damp from the steam.

For a moment, her eyes search my face. Curious but careful. Then she leans forward and presses a soft kiss against my mouth.

No interrogation or hesitation. Just that quiet decision to leave it alone, which somehow makes my chest feel even tighter.

I know she felt them.

And sooner or later … she’s going to want to know where they came from.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Kayla

Melissa slides into the booth across from me with a tired sigh, dropping her purse beside her. “Remind me again why oncology nurses don’t get a mandatory two-hour lunch break?”

I grin and slide her iced tea across the table. “Because then who would keep all the doctors from setting things on fire?”

She snorts. “Fair.”

The little café near the hospital is crowded with the usual weekday lunch rush, but the noise fades into the background while my brain circles the same thought it’s been stuck on all morning—Sawyer.

More specifically … the scars on his back.

Melissa is halfway through stealing fries off my plate when I finally say it.

“Can I ask you something?”

She glances up immediately. “Uh-oh. That tone means gossip.”