Page 84 of Cold Mercy

“That’s undoubtedly who you are.”

And hearing him say it, broken, bruised, smiling at me like I’m the only person in the world who matters, hits me harder than anything else.

Maybe he’s right. People say you realize someone’s value only when you almost lose them, and today I finally understood how colorless my life would be without Thomas Reed in it.

He walked into my world when it was collapsing, understood me without pretending he didn’t, and somehow shaped himself around the sharp edges I kept trying to use against him.

I wipe my cheeks, still smiling like a complete fool, and force out a steady breath.

“I’m going to call Elizabeth and James, let them know why you didn’t show up to work.”

The truth is, I need to step out before I end up kissing him, confessing everything I’ve been swallowing down for weeks, or curling against him like some woman who is entitled to carry his last name. I need a second to breathe.

“I’ll be right back, and don’t you dare run under another car just to see me again, you idiot,” I add, letting sarcasm save me.

I walk to the doorway, rest my shoulder on the frame, and look at him one more time before stepping out toward the waiting area.

At the nurses station, while I’m trying to collect myself, I see a flash of red hair I’d recognize anywhere: Grace O’Malley. The same woman who once told me, in this very building, that my dead fiancé was a criminal and that I was probably one too. I keep walking, pretending I don’t see her, heading toward the vending machine because the only thing keeping me upright right now is caffeine. But on my way back, she turns toward me.

“Ms. Moreau, what are you doing here?

God, what a snake.

“What am I doing here?” I shoot back, lowering my voice so it doesn’t echo. “Oh, you know. Just burying another fiancé, and you? Looking for your next almost-widow to accuse of money laundering? Do you charge for that service, or is it just a hobby?”

Her jaw tenses, and I know it’s because she hates that I’m innocent, that she couldn't break me.

“I’m here on duty, Ms. Moreau. I hope everything is alright.”

I stare directly into her eyes long enough to make her flinch and brush her shoulder intentionally as I walk past her, calling Elizabeth and James on the way to Thomas’s room. They both insist they’re coming immediately.

By the time I enter the room again, confusion and adrenaline are still swirling through me. Thomas turns his head slightly, watching me with those bruised eyes.

“What happened?” he asks.

“Nothing. I just ran into that redhead who once accused me of laundering money, so nothing pleasant. But forget her, tell me what happened to you.”

“Someone hit my car and walked away without a scratch. I wasn’t so lucky.”

I sit beside him and exhale slowly.

“I’ll take care of you when they release you.”

My body leans forward as if it has a mind of its own, and before I can stop myself, I kiss his cheek. A soft, terrified, too-honest brush of my lips. The moment it happens, I snap upright like I’ve been burned.

“I should let you rest,” I mumble, stepping away from the bed.

His hand shoots out and catches mine. Even that tiny movement hurts him, I can see it in the way he clenches his jaw.

“Sophia,” he says, voice strained, breath shaking. “Stop. If I’d known being run over was the price for a kiss on the cheek, I’d have thrown myself into traffic months ago.”

My breath hitches, but the words won't form when I try to speak.

“Come here,” he murmurs, shifting a little and patting the space beside him.

His eyes practically order me to lie down.

“I can’t…” I whisper.