Page 65 of Never the Same

I spoke once he seemed to be comfortable again, breathing easier without me being in his reach. “I do know I’m glad to have you and your team on my side.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets with too much force, because the movement revealed more of his boxer-brief waistband, and all that did was send my mind to the gutter. Reminded me of seeing him in only his underwear at five this morning, which was about nineteen hours ago.

“We’ll figure this out. I’ve never failed a mission,” he said steadily.

“Guess I don’t want to be your first.”

His lips twitched. “Failure’s not an option.” He gestured to the fridge as it hummed between us. “I assume you came in here in search of food, not me?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Did I not feed you enough?” He blessed me with a quick, sexy smile.

“You didn’t feed me. The restaurant you ordered from did.”

He tipped his head slightly forward. “Apologies, ma’am.”

The mood bent again, shifting into something lighter, but I managed to refrain from testing him by closing the space.

“I think I’ll skip the snack and head back to bed,” I decided, unable to be around him much longer, not trusting my mouth wouldn’t run away like it had a habit of doing. I gave him a polite nod, then started to leave.

“I should also apologize for earlier.” His voice was rough, and his words stopped me in my tracks.

I dropped my hand to the counter for support and closed my eyes, waiting for him to continue.

“If you risked your neck for my old man and this is what it cost you . . .” There was a crack in his armor that was as sharp and unexpected as the intimate moments we kept sharing. “I won’t be able to live with that.”

I processed his words, his guilt, then slowly stole a look back at him without fully facing him. “We don’t know why I was in Rome.” I swallowed, hating to see the pained expression crossing his face. “But if it was for your dad, that’s on me. Not you. After all, one thing I know to be true . . . is that secrets always come with a price.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Hollis

Monday came and went. Fast, but also somehow slow. Reed had kept his distance most of the day, but it helped that we had a few distractions and obstacles between us from sunrise to sunset: Audrey and her son. They’d kept me busy with movies, baked goods, and even board games while Delta Shield chased leads.

But we were now in Tuesday territory, and that hourglass Reed had tipped over Sunday night would run out soon, and his team still had nothing. Not a single lead to speak of, and the idea of reaching out to my family made me physically ill.

I paced my bedroom, on the verge of spinning out. Gone was the happy middle between fearless and panicky. I was teetering on the edge of full-blown anxiousness. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this, not even Reed. I hated when people looked at me like I was a stranger, even if I’d stared at them like that.

I collapsed onto the bed, resting my head in my palms, trying to chill out. I needed to find something to distract myself with while I waited for Audrey to get here with Chase. They were currently at a skating rink. Ryder was taking a brief break from work to spend time with his nephew, because apparently he used to play hockey and Chase loved the sport.

Reed had turned down my request to join them, which made sense. Probably shouldn’t leave the house. But then he’d also turned down watching more episodes of Mad Men with me.

He had to clean his guns. Sure, sure. He was just too scared to sit next to me on the couch. Worried our hands might brush against each other and we’d violate the three-foot rule he’d broken himself Sunday night when reaching for my chin.

I drummed my fingers on my legs, trying to come up with a plan to still my body.

Maybe the sauna would help? I made up my mind, grabbed a towel from the hall closet, then went into my room and took off my clothes, leaving only the chain on to mask my tracker.

I wrapped myself in a towel and made a hurried rush for the gym. I flung the door open with a little too much force, and remained stuck between the two spaces like I was in limbo.

With my one hand, I held the towel tight above my breasts, every part of me prickling with awareness at the fact I’d barged into his space like this, which was going to wind up on his list of rules, no doubt.

Still, urgency outweighed dignity, so I hovered there, waiting for him to notice me.

He was bent over a rifle, oiling the barrel with surgical precision in front of his wall of gun safes. The steel trapped in those safes could arm a small country.

He lifted his eyes, slow and steady, from my bare feet up my body.