Page 38 of Destroyed With You

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the words cracking his soul. “But we can’t.”

Chapter Thirteen

“Can’t,” he repeats, taking a step back from me. “Of course not. I shouldn’t have—”

“I want to,” I admit. “But—but I don’t want to confuse things.”

“Confuse things,” he repeats. “Are you with someone? God, are you married?”

“No. God no.” I reply with more vehemence than the question calls for, and I try to dial it back in. “It’s just that this—finding each other again like this—I, I didn’t expect it. And right now, I don’t have the bandwidth to process it. We need to find Bartlett. And on top of that, we need to check in with our respective handlers.”

For a moment, he simply stands there as if he has no idea what I’m talking about. Then he squeezes the bridge of his nose and looks at me hard.

“What?”

“You mess with my head,” he says. “Seeing you again. Touching you. I think you’ve re-wired my brain. You’re right, of course. Somehow being around you again has completely erased my ability to think clearly.”

I flash a watery smile. “I know the feeling.”

“Truce?” He holds out his hand, and I take it, and the shock of that simple connection ricochets through me, making me crave things I shouldn’t want. Things I can’t have. The touch of his hand, the brush of his lips. I want to talk with him the way we used to. I want a past that is gone, a man that I can’t have, and a love I don’t deserve.

Except we never really had those things. We were actors playing house. It was warm and comfortable and wonderful, but it was never truly real.

I let go, feigning nonchalance, then slip my hands in the pockets of the robe as I glance at the clock on the bedside table. “We both should have checked in already,” I say again.

“Will Collins wonder why you’re late?”

I shake my head. “I’ve worked with Collins since before Hades. He trusts me. For that matter, I trust him.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s not dirty.”

“I know. I’m the one who said that to you. But I still hate this whole situation.”

His eyes meet mine. “I don’t. Most of it, yes. But part of this situation is a gift.”

His words slide over me, his voice like the most intimate caress. “Winston, please. We need—”

“What?”

“We need to figure this out. This,” I stress. “Not us. Not right now,” I add, to soften the blow.

His face tightens, but he nods in acknowledgment. “What about Hawthorne?”

“We’re clean there, too. He’ll be in a fury when I tell him, but I’m positive he doesn’t already know. That’s not how he works. What about on your side of things?”

“I trust Seagrave,” he says, mimicking my response about Collins. I take the cue and roll my eyes.

“I’ve worked with him since before Hades, too,” he continues. He exhales loudly. “Hell, maybe they’re both clean as a whistle. But we won’t know until we know.”

“I’m not arguing. And, again, I’m going to say that this situation sucks.”

“Amen to that.” He bends to pick up the table that I knocked over when attacking him. “Nice maneuver, by the way.”

“You should have seen it coming. That was sloppy of you.”

He looks at me over the newly-righted table. “Maybe I wanted to test my wife. See how far she’d go to get free, and whether she would have actually hurt me.”

I meet his eyes and allow myself the tiniest of smiles. “I don’t like being trapped.”