Page 52 of Night Shift

I stare at him.

He closes his eyes.

“That was not helpful.”

“No.”

I move beside him.

My jeans are soaked to the knees, my hair is plastered to my face, and I smell like salt water and goat.

“I know you didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“That does not appear to matter.”

“No. It doesn’t.”

He looks toward the bay.

“I thought I could contain the consequences.”

“You can’t.”

“I know that now.”

There is no defensiveness in him tonight.

That frightens me more than the arguments did.

“You wanted one night with me so badly that you stopped thinking about what Night means to everyone else.”

His jaw tightens.

“I wanted something that was mine.”

“I know.”

“I have never had that before.”

“I know that, too.”

He finally turns to me.

Moonlight catches his eyes, but for once, they don’t look endless.

They look tired.

“I did not know wanting could make me cruel.”

My heart breaks a little.

I reach for his hand.

“You’re not cruel.”

“I endangered them.”

“You made a selfish choice. There’s a difference.”