Page 85 of Cold Mercy

He arches a brow.

“You’d refuse a dying man?”

I choke on a laugh, press my teeth into my lower lip, and finally give in.

I lie beside him carefully, sliding my head onto his shoulder, terrified of hurting him, terrified of how natural this feels. For the first time, I can really look at him, at every bruise, every shadow, every piece of him that feels like it belongs too close to my heartbeat.

He turns slightly toward me, and our eyes lock, his breath brushing my cheek.

Our mouths are only millimeters apart. I want him, God, I want him.

I want to close the distance and give him everything I’ve been holding back.

“Are we interrupting something?” James’s voice, loud and obnoxiously delighted, breaks through the air like a gunshot.

Elizabeth stands beside him, staring at us with raised brows.

“Oh, so this is how ‘just friends’ looks now?”

I shoot up so fast the bed rattles, but Thomas doesn't even move. He keeps staring at me, disappointment and frustration written across his face, like I stole a moment from both of us.

“It’s not—it's not what it looks like—” I stammer, then bolt from the room before I can look at him again.

I hear him call my name, pained and breathless, but I’m already halfway down the hall. I don’t know where I’m going, I need to move, or I’ll start sobbing again.

Elizabeth appears behind me in seconds, breathless from chasing me the way she always does.

“Sophia! What’s going on?”

Her voice makes something in me snap.

“I don’t fucking know, Elizabeth! I wish I knew! I wish something in my brain made sense for once!”

She grabs my shoulders gently, anchoring me.

“Hey, look at me. You can tell me anything, I won’t judge you.”

Her kindness is too much, and it breaks whatever dam I had left.

Tears spill down my cheeks, hot and unstoppable.

“I care about him,” I choke out. “I care about him more than I should. He’s a good man, Liz. Too good for me. Nothing between us could ever work, and… and I think that’s exactly what’s happening.”

Elizabeth pulls me into her arms, holding me the way someone holds a person who’s finally admitting the thing they’ve been terrified of.

CHAPTER 18

THOMAS

Why did she run? Why did she pull away like that, right when everything in her eyes finally matched everything in mine? I try to keep my breathing steady, but every rib I own screams when I move.

“Alright, seriously now. Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” Of course, James chooses this exact moment to speak.

Sure, James. Why not? I’m a detective who somehow fell for the woman who was supposed to be his goddamn target. That’s what’s going on. I’m furious, but not at him, at myself, at her running, at the universe that clearly enjoys screwing me over.

I exhale through my teeth.

“I don’t know, James. I’d like to know more than you think. I just don’t know what answer you’re looking for.”