Chapter 4

The coffee tastes too bitter this morning.

I wrap both hands around the mug anyway and keep my eyes on the dark surface instead of the man across the kitchen. Adrian stands at the counter buttering toast, movements precise, shoulders set in that careful line he uses when Maya is in the room. She hums under her breath while she scrolls through her phone at the table, completely untouched by the residual heat still sitting under my skin from last night.

I almost touched him.

The knowledge hasn’t left. It lives in the tips of my fingers and the back of my throat every time the air between...