Page 82 of Only the Hunter

So did everything between us.

And I don’t know which one is going to break first.

Chapter 18

Evie

What did I just say to him?

My pulse is still too fast. My skin too tight—tingling as if I haven’t yet processed that the argument is over.

I accused him of being afraid. Of holding back. Of not letting me in.

Where did that even come from?

I mean it’s true, he keeps me at arm’s length. Distant. Gabe is nothing if not always aboveboard and appropriate. But there’s never been anything remotely romantic between us. He’s five years older. One of the few friends my brother has who isn’t a total asshole. Who’s stayed around through the years. Not that my brother deserves friends who stay. He’s the worst at keeping in touch. At reaching out. At maintaining friendships.

Of course, I’m not exactly one to talk. My closest friends are ones I’ve met through work. And once we’re no longer on the same case, I don’t see them as often. My closest friend in DC, Shonda, is close mainly thanks to proximity—her office is on the same floor as mine.

Was I projecting?

That’s too clinical of an assessment. Also, too easy.

I pace the bedroom, cardigan wrapped tight around me. Outside, the lake is dark glass, reflecting sunlight that wavers and blurs.

And what did he say back?

Because if you were ready, you wouldn’t still be standing so far away.

Is that true?

Even if it is, holding back is the smart thing, right? I’m an adult woman, I can’t imagine that Scott cares about my sex life, but on the off chance he does, is it worth risking one of my brother’s few sustaining relationships? It’s hard for men to connect. Hell, it’s hard for me to connect and it’s doubly hard for my brother.

At the window, the vast lake before me, a voice in my head asks, “Scott? That’s your excuse? You’re not a kid anymore. If something happened here in Switzerland, he’d never even know. And if it developed into more, he’d probably be elated.”

Scott is a weak argument. The trial lawyer in me understands that. It’s not one I’d present to a judge.

I’ve never been one for relationships. That’s the truth. I’ve dated but when push comes to shove, my relationships have always fallen to low priority status. And eventually they fizzle.

Now that’s a legitimate concern. What if Gabe and I did cross the line, if I’d let that kiss progress, and then what? After we solve this case—and we will find out who is behind killing the case and Lina—I’ll be back at it. Working insane hours for the best of causes—stopping the worst of humanity.

Gabe deserves someone with more to give, more time, greater presence. Someone who wouldn’t choose the job over him. Every time.

The internal voice comes back, the voice I rely on to shred my arguments so I foresee the weakness. “Aren’t you putting the cart before the horse? You’re jumping to his frustration over canceled dinner plans before he’s asked you to dinner.”

Valid.

Which brings me back to…does he even want anything with me? Gabe isn’t the kind of guy who would come on to me just for sex. He’s not a player. Never has been.

I sink onto the edge of the bed, pressing my palms to my thighs.

Gabriel Martin has been in my dreams since I was fifteen. Literally. Recurring dreams—the kind Freud and Jung said pointed to unresolved feelings. I took a whole class on dream psychology just to understand why I kept seeing him. The professor said it wasn’t about the person—it was about what they represented. Unfinished business. Something my subconscious was trying to integrate.

I got an A in the class.

And I still dream about him.

Distantly, like he’s out of reach.