“You ever draw in color?”
“When I was a kid.” She let out a bitter laugh. “Back when I drew unicorns and rainbows. Shades of gray feel more fitting now.”
“Your life’s still full of color, Nimue.” His voice went soft. “You’re full of color.”
Oh my.The words could drown her with the terrible rush of longing. She forced another laugh. Sharp. Defensive. “You barely know me, Ranger.”
He winced.
Yeah.Her words hit like a slap after everything—after he’d put his life on hold for her, kissed her like she mattered, promised he wasn’t going anywhere.
But he was digging too close. Expecting too much.
She tucked the sketchpad back in her pack. “I didn’t mean?—”
“Forget it.” No smile now. His blue eyes still locked on hers. “You’re right. There’s a lot I don’t know about you.” He paused. “But I know you’re beautiful—inside and out. Don’t be afraid to let all of Nimue out. She’s more than a hacker trying to control the uncontrollable.”
Another pause. Heavier.
“She’s amazing.”
The air between them thickened. Charged.
What would it be like if he stayed in her life?
Her lips still tingled from that kiss. She’d never been held like that—cherished like that. Like every touch of his mouth was a promise.
And here she was, acting like they were strangers. Like he was invading her life, when in fact, if she was honest, the words balmed the raw places.
What would she do if he asked her to stay?
The longing for family, for connection, burned in her chest. But opening herself to that kind of hope…
Terrifying.
Because staying meant hoping. And maybe…loving.
And love ripped away hurt so much worse than no love at all.
She must have looked away, maybe worn that on her face, because two strides brought Liam to her. Kneeling in front ofher, his hands cupped her face with a gentleness that stopped her breath.
“Hey.” Thumbs brushed her cheeks. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s wrong.”
His eyes held hers. Fixed. Sure.
“That kiss? It meant something. A big something.” His voice dropped lower. “Right now, I’m pouring everything into keeping you alive. And let’s be real—you’re holding back half your story and I’m still here.”
Her eyes stung. He was right. She hadn’t told him about the files or the four million dollars Teresa demanded. He’d been open—sharing family stories, his life—while she’d kept walls up, guarding secrets that could get them both killed.
“I’m trying.” Barely a whisper.
“I know.”
Instead of kissing her—what she half expected, maybe hoped for—he pressed his lips to her forehead. Soft. Steady. A promise.
Her chest ached with the weight of it.
He pulled back, eyes warm but resolute. “Rebandage your hand. I’ll finish dinner.”