Page 70 of Rook
Not from fear.
From the weight of what he wasn’t saying.
She squeezed his hand. “Okay.”
Stone stood, signaling the end of the meeting. “We’ll keep you updated. For now, eat. Rest. We’ve got work to do.”
As the men dispersed, Avery stayed close to Rook, her hand brushing his under the table. He didn’t pull away.
He laced their fingers together.
But his jaw was still tight.
And for the first time since the break-in, Avery felt something like safety settle in her chest…
Even as she realized Rook was holding back a storm he wasn’t ready to unleash.
Not yet.
Chapter 21
Rook
Rook didn’t say a damn thing as they left the table.
Couldn’t.
His jaw was locked so tight it ached, and his hands were fists at his sides. Avery walked beside him, close enough that her shoulder brushed his once, twice, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to stay near him. He didn’t reach for her. Didn’t trust himself to.
They reached his room. He pushed the door open, stepped inside, and the moment it clicked shut behind them, the silence hit like a hammer.
Avery hovered near the bed, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “I’m just gonna… use the bathroom real quick.”
He nodded, stiff, unable to look at her without the anger rising again, not at her, never at her, but at the situation, at himself, at the fact that she’d been watched and he hadn’t known.
The bathroom door closed softly.
Rook stood in the middle of the room, hands on his hips, shoulders tight, pacing once, twice, then stopping because pacing wasn’t helping. Nothing was helping.
He dragged a hand down his face, then across the back of his neck, muscles coiled so tight they felt like they might snap.
She’d been watched. Outside the bakery. More than once. And that sedan — the same one Havoc had mentioned, the same one circling town — had been following her.
She’d been scared. Alone. And she hadn’t told him.
His jaw flexed hard.
She thought she was imagining it. She didn’t want to bother him. She didn’t think he cared.
He clenched his fists again, knuckles popping.
He’d spent seven years trying to bury the part of himself that still cared. And now she was here, in danger, uneasy from the start, and she still didn’t think she could come to him.
The bathroom door opened.
Avery stepped out, wiping her hands on her jeans. Her hair was damp from splashing water on her face, her cheeks still flushed from the meeting. She looked nervous, shoulders slightly hunched, like she was bracing for something.
“Noah?” she asked softly. “You okay?”
