Something I’m not ready to name.
She’s already up to something—typical. Blissfully unaware of the hard conversation looming just beyond the edge of this moment.
I hang back, watching from the threshold, not ready to shatter it just yet. There’s something about seeing her like this—unfiltered, absorbed in whatever mischief she’s brewing—that makes me want to bottle the scene and keep it.
Except… I have no idea what she’s actuallydoing.
She’s perched precariously on a chair, arms stretched high toward the smoke alarm in the hallway. One wobble away from a cracked skull.
My gut tightens. This is a disaster in the making.
“What are you doing?” I ask, already ticking through a mental risk assessment of every unsafe thing in this scene.
She startles, glancing down, wide-eyed like I’ve caught her mid-theft.
“I, uh… I needed some batteries,” she stammers.
I blink. “And the smoke alarm was your best option?”
“It’s the only thing I know that takes double A’s,” she mutters, not quite meeting my eye.
I sigh, folding my arms across my still-sweaty chest. “And what do you need double A’s for, exactly?”
She blushes.
And in that instant, I know. Of course I know.
Little sex demon.
“It’s fine,” she rushes out. “I’ll just grab some from the shop.”
I arch a brow. “If you’d asked, I would’ve shown you where I keep them. You don’t need to strip my smoke alarms for parts like some battery bandit.”
She smiles clumsily, and for the first time since I met her, she lookshappy.
She looks genuinely happy.
Which only makes this so much harder.
The last thing I want to do is wipe that look from her face, but we need to be realistic about the situation. One misstep, one lapse in focus, and she could slip right through my fingers.
I can’t afford that. Not now. Not when everything’s on the line.
Until she’s safe, I have to stay sharp. No distractions. No indulgence.
And yet somehow… she’s become the biggest one of all.
By the time she’s back on solid ground—clutching her prize, cheeks flushed with triumph—I know I’m about to ruin everything.
I take a slow breath, steadying myself against the weight of what needs to be said.
“We need to talk.”
Her smile falters. “Okay…”
It’s written all over her face now—the shift. Apprehension creeping in like a shadow. But I can’t afford to soften, not where she’s concerned.
“We can’t do this, Nell. Not right now. There’s too much at stake and—”
