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He blinked like he was trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind. “No. Sorry. I must have spaced. Sorry.”

My gut started screaming at me that something wasn’t right, and as I took him in, I noticed the way North was holding himself, like a stiff breeze might blow him apart if he wasn’t careful. But it was the shadows in those blue eyes that worried me the most. There was always a lingering darkness beneath the surface that I contributed to whatever it was he was keeping to himself. Only now, he wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding them or pushing them back.

That magnetic pull between the two of us was so strong in that moment I couldn’t have stopped my feet from moving in his direction if I tried. Pulling out the other chair, I scooted it up beside him and sat down, leaning forward and brushing a lock of hair back from his forehead. “Hey. You okay?”

He leaned into my touch, but only for a moment before he pulled back, and that concern sank like a stone to the pit of my stomach.

“I’m fine.” He grabbed the papers around the table and piled them together before stuffing them into the folder in front of him and slapping it closed, almost as if he didn’t want me to see what he was looking at.

Problem was, he didn’t move fast enough, and before he slid the file out of sight, I spotted the name typed out along the tab.

My back shot straight. “North,” I started as he shot up from the chair and moved to the kitchen. He pulled open a random drawer and shoved the folder inside before slamming it shut. I followed him, asking, “Why do you have a folder with Layne Denning’s name on it?”

The expression on his face when he finally looked at me made my blood turn cold and sent a shiver down my spine. And not the warm, yummy shiver he usually caused. There was nothing good to this shiver. I’d seen him serious, even stoic, but I’d never seen that expression. Like there wasn’t a single hint of feeling anywhere inside him. A blank mask.

Alarm bells started going off in my head. I knew what a mask like that was used for. It was used to hide. To keep secrets. I’d used it myself in the past, after what Davis had done to me.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said flatly. “What are you doing here?”

I jerked back, not just at the question, but at the complete lack of emotion in his voice. “Are you serious?”

His response was to cant his head to the side silently, like he was waiting for me to explain, but was too lazy to ask. “We were supposed to have dinner tonight.” My chest started to ache. “We texted about it earlier today to confirm.”

His eyes slammed shut and his head fell as he braced his arms wide on the counter between us. “Fuck, I forgot. I’m sorry, Iris. I got caught up. Is there any way we can do it another night?”

There were several things about that sentence that left me unsettled, but the one that stood out the most was his use of my name. Usually he used an endearment. Baby, or honey, or my favorite, Little Flower.

Hardly ever Iris.

That small voice in the back of my head, the one that Davis had a large hand in creating, warned me not to push, not to rock the boat and risk upsetting him, but I quickly slapped a piece of duct tape over that bitch’s mouth and told her to shut up. I wasn’t that scared, trembling little woman anymore. If something didn’t work for me, I would damn well push until it did, because nothing was wrong with demanding to be treated respectfully. “What’s going on, North?”

“Nothing. Just a lot of shit going on with work, that’s all.”

My head cocked to the side, my eyes narrowing as I studied him closely. He didn’t have many tells, but after years of watching him at a distance, I managed to spot the very few he had. “You’re lying.”

Two streaks of angry-red slashed across his cheeks, but I wouldn’t back down. I wasn’t scared of him. Deep down I knew without a shadow of doubt this man wouldn’t hurt me, no matter how mad he got. “I’m not lying about anything, and I really don’t appreciate you coming into my house and accusing me of something like that.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling my own anger growing. “That’s bullshit, and we both know it. You’re lying that nothing’s wrong, and you’re avoiding my question about why you have Layne’s file.”

“I’m not avoiding it,” he ground out. “But it’s a police matter, and none of your business.”

That hurt. Man, did that hurt. But I pulled in a centering breath and refused to let it show that he’d just managed to draw first blood. “Does that have anything to do with why you took the job with the Ashland department?”

He dropped his head, letting out a sigh that was part frustration, part exhaustion. “Christ, Iris. Can you drop it? I told you, I had a long day.”

“You said you’d tell me⁠—”

His hand came down on the counter with a smack so loud it ricochetted off the walls, making me jump. “I said I’d tell you when I was goddamn ready!” he barked. “And I’m not fucking ready, so just drop it.”

The pain in my chest intensified, squeezing until it was a struggle to breathe. Tears burned behind my eyes, but I would be damned if I let them fall. “North, whatever it is you’re dealing with right now, it’s obviously eating at you.” I rounded the island slowly, coming up beside him and placing my hand on his. “If you’d talk to me, tell me what you’re struggling with, I could help you.”

He jerked his hand from beneath mine with a sardonic chuckle and took a step back, putting himself between me and that picture in the corner he refused to talk about. “Christ, Iris. You ever stop to think that sometimes a bad day is just that? Not everything’s about you.”

Even if I’d had the time to brace for the impact of that hit, it wouldn’t have done any good. Because it wasn’t only a blow to the chest. It was a goddamn knife, cutting right into me.

I sniffled, forcing back the flood of emotion that wanted to race out of me, but the dam I’d erected held them back in place. At least for now. When I was alone I would let them free, but no way in hell was I going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

Steeling my spine, I lifted my chin and squared my shoulders. “You’re right. Not everything is about me. Like whatever it is you’re carrying around that’s making you act like a first-class asshole.”