Page 59 of Blades Out
But the words stuck.
My car appeared ahead—dented bumper, chipped paint, exactly as pathetic as I'd described. I slowed. Stopped beside the driver's door.
Rhys stopped, too. Maintained that same careful distance.
"Thanks." I fumbled with my keys. "For… walking me out. You didn't have to."
"I know."
Heat crept up my neck. I unlocked the door but didn't open it yet. Didn't want to. Didn't want him to leave. Didn't want to drive back to my empty apartment and check my phone and wonder if the unknown number meant what I thought it meant.
I wished I were braver. Wished I could say something that didn't sound desperate or needy or like I was reading too much into basic human decency.
But standing here under flickering parking lot lights with Rhys Ackerman watching me like I might disappear if he blinked, I didn't feel quite so alone.
And I wanted that feeling to last just a little longer.
His hand lifted. Slow. Hesitant. Like he was fighting himself with every inch of movement.
I stopped breathing.
His fingertips brushed my temple—feather-light, barely there—as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. The touch was so careful it made my chest ache. Like I was something fragile. Something precious.
Heat flooded through me. Fast. Overwhelming.
Not just attraction—though God, that was there too, impossible to ignore with him this close, his hand still hovering near my face like he couldn't quite bring himself to pull away.
But something deeper.
Something that made my throat close and my eyes burn.
I felt seen.
For the first time in longer than I could remember, someone looked at me and didn't see the girl who needed fixing. Didn't see a burden or a charity case or a problem to solve.
Just… me.
And I felt safe.
Standing in a dark parking lot at midnight with a man I barely knew, I felt safer than I had in my own apartment with double-locked doors and pepper spray on my nightstand.
That terrified me more than anything.
Because safe wasn't real. Safe was an illusion people sold you right before they took it away. Safe was what you felt right before everything shattered.
I'd learned that lesson too many times.
His thumb grazed my cheekbone—so brief I might've imagined it.
Then he jerked back like I'd burned him. Stumbled one step away. Then another.
The careful mask slammed back into place. Expression shuttering so completely I wondered if I'd hallucinated the softness in his eyes seconds ago.
"Get home safe." Barely a whisper. Rough. Almost angry.
He turned. Walked away. Fast. Purposeful. Like he couldn't get away from me quickly enough.
I stood frozen beside my car, keys cutting into my palm, watching his silhouette disappear into the shadows near the arena entrance.
