Page 15

Since the moment Cora’s body had been discovered, I felt like I’d been wandering through life without any clear direction. It took that podcast to plant a seed inside me. And as it grew, so did my purpose. This was what I was meant to do. It was how I’d exact revenge for my sister.

Iris’s mouth pulled into an exaggerated, silent eek. She shifted from foot to foot on the balls of her feet, tugging nervously at the hem of the shirt she was wearing. “Sorry about that. Did I get you?”

Christ, why did she have to be so fucking cute all the time? “No, you didn’t get me.” It was a hell of a struggle, but I managed to keep from grinning.

“I was, um . . . I made breakfast. Oh! And coffee.” She skip-walked to the microwave and pulled it open, removing the only ceramic mug I had. “Took a shot that you drank it black. Hope I was right.”

I moved slowly, caught in the tractor beam that was her gaze. She smelled like lavender and sage as always, and as I took the mug from her and brought it to my lips, I knew there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d be washing her scent off that shirt any time soon.

There was just one problem . . .

“Do you know what happened last night?”

She’d taken my travel mug for herself and had been in the process of lifting it for a sip when I asked my question. As soon as I finished, her eyes went wide and her face leached of all color. I’d seen her blush a million times, but I’d never seen her go so pale I worried she might pass out.

“W-what?”

“You know. Did we . . .” I trailed off, waving my hand toward the bedroom. I was so wrapped up in my own head, worried what sex with Iris Maxwell might mean and how the hell I could have been with the one woman I wanted more than anything and not recall a single fucking detail, that I didn’t read the room accurately, or more precisely, Iris’s growing dread.

“You don’t remember?”

Fuck. The pounding in my head returned, and I had to squeeze my eyes closed and pinch the bridge of my nose to stave off the worst of the pain.

“Were you . . .” She slapped her hands over her mouth. “Goddess above. Were you drunk?”

I winced, partly in shame and partly because that last word came out so loud the effect in my skull was like nails on a chalkboard. “I’m sorry.”

Her jaw dropped. “You’re sorry?” She let out a laugh that contained zero humor, raking her hands into her hair before encountering the elastic she was using to hold it up.

My cock stirred to life as I watched her yank it out, sending all those copper and amber strands tumbling down her back and shoulders before she hastily wrapped it around her fist and tied it all up again.

I would not think about how I wanted it to be my hand in her hair or how I’d rather she was wearing it down right then so I could see all that golden fire in the sunlight streaming through the window behind her. And I sure as hell wouldn’t let myself get lost in how fucking good she looked in my shirt.

As badly as I wished I could remember what had clearly happened the night before, there was a part of me that was grateful, because at least by not remembering, I wouldn’t be haunted by what I’d once had and had to give up. This couldn’t happen.

“You tell me I basically assaulted you and you’re the one apologizing? Oh my goddess.” Her words came out as a whisper as she tugged at her hair again, once more forgetting it was up. “Damn it! Stupid hair,” she grumbled as she redid the sloppy version of a bun for a second time.

“Iris, you didn’t assault me.”

I attempted a step in her direction but stopped when she quickly moved back to maintain distance. “What are you talking about?” she shrieked, her entire body strung so tight I was afraid she was seconds away from blowing. “Apparently, you were under the influence! That means you were unable to consent to what we . . .” Her throat worked on a thick swallow, and I swear to God, I saw her chin start to tremble, which instantly shifted me straight into dread. A woman’s tears were something I struggled to handle on a good day. In my current state, I didn’t stand a chance.

“You really don’t remember anything?”

At the short shake of my head, the tears dried up, but what they were replaced with might have been even worse. A whole slew of emotions flicked across Iris’s expression, not a single thing held back. There was disappointment, sadness, and worst of all, her face eventually shut down completely after I watched the hope in her eyes die.

It’s for the best, I tried telling myself, not that I bought it for a second. We couldn’t happen, but that didn’t mean I wanted to hurt her.

“I’m really sorry, Iris. But I don’t want you leaving here thinking I hold you responsible for whatever we did last night.”

I instantly regretted my choice of words when she visibly flinched, but I wouldn’t let myself take it back. The cleaner the break, the better.

“Oh. Well . . . thanks.” Fuck, I hated how small and quiet her voice had suddenly sounded. The longer she stood in front of me, the more she shrunk in on herself. I needed to get this done quickly, for both our sakes. “Listen, Iris⁠—”

She smiled, and the sadness in it squeezed my ribs like a vise, making it difficult to pull in a full breath. “Is this where you tell me it’s not me, it’s you?”

“It’s where I tell you I think you’re a great woman, but I’m not really in a place right now for something serious.”

Those eyes lowered to the floor, the paleness replaced by a flush of embarrassment, and for the first time, I hated seeing it on her beautiful face. “Right,” she whispered brokenly. She turned slowly, placing the travel mug she barely drank half of into the sink. “Totally get it. I’ll just . . . get out of your hair. Um . . .” She looked around the kitchen, her eyes wide and glassy, like a deer caught in headlights. Her entire being screamed that she’d rather be anywhere else. “I made scrambled eggs. I wasn’t sure how you took them, so I went with the one way I could manage without messing them up.” She let loose a humorless laugh. “Toast’s in the toaster. I’ll get dressed quickly and be on my way.”