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A heavy beat passed.

And then his head slowly canted back to me.

Every muscle tightened. His fingers clenched and splayed, his biceps twitching in response. He shook his head back and forth as if trying to eradicate the question from the space between us. “Don’t ask me that.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t ever ask me that,” he repeated, rasping out the words like they were tiny needles pricking him on the way out. “Please.”

“We should talk about it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Yes, there is. Maybe we should?—”

“You fucking lied to me!”

He shot forward like a predator in the night with balled hands and anger in his eyes.

My own traitorous instincts kicked in.

Memories unfurled. Flashbacks assaulted me.

I shrank before him, cowering back, my arms lifting to block my face.

Reed froze.

Stopped dead in his tracks.

“Christ,” he breathed out.

Slowly, I lowered both hands from my face, my eyes wide and glassy as reality came tumbling back.

Oh, God.

I shook my head, humiliation sinking in.

“I wasn’t going to hurt you. I would never hurt you.”

“I-I know. I’m sorry,” I stammered, my headshake morphing into a frantic nod. “I know.”

He reached for me, cautiously extending both arms, his gaze gleaming with torture and remorse. “Fuck. Come here, Comet.”

My nickname.

He’d only said it once, and I wasn’t sure why he ever stopped.

I inhaled a shaky breath.

That awful apologetic look he sent me dismantled whatever it was that had taken me over. Images of my father’s evil eyes and meaty fists evaporated into distant fog as I stepped closer, then closer, until the heat from his body melted away the remnants of my misplaced fear.

His arms wrapped around me.

Gentle. Careful.

The shot of adrenaline receded and I became a ragdoll in his embrace. I felt his warm breath skimming along the top of my head as his scent enveloped me, bathing me in a wash of pure peace.

“I’m really sorry,” I murmured against his chest. “I feel like such an idiot.”