Page 97 of Monk

Wasn’t looking at anyone.

She was staring across the street at her car like it was the only thing tethering her to this moment. Like if she looked at me, even once, whatever she was holding together might split wide open.

Something cold slid under my ribs.

I changed direction without thinking and headed straight for her, my jaw locked so tight it hurt.

“Lina.”

She turned.

And Christ.

The look she gave me could have frozen Hell itself.

Her face was composed, but her eyes were dead flat. Distant. Controlled in a way that felt worse than anger. Like she had already pulled part of herself somewhere I couldn’t reach. Like everything that had passed between us last night—every confession, every crack in the armor, every tear, every promise—had been buried by daylight and locked under concrete.

Like I was standing in front of a stranger wearing her face.

“You good?” I asked, though the question came out rougher than I meant it to.

“Fine.” Her answer was clipped, stripped down, all business.

No softness. No warmth. No trace of the woman who had held me together when I was coming apart.

I stepped closer and lowered my voice, trying to keep the edge out of it and failing. “You wanna ride back to the clubhouse with me?”

For the first time, something shifted in her expression.

Not much. Just the smallest flicker in her eyes.

Sharp. Dangerous. Gone almost before I caught it.

“No,” she said.

Flat. Professional. Final.

“I need to head home and make some calls. I’ll see you later today.”

The words landed like a slap across the mouth.

Notmaybe.

Notwe’ll talk later.

Notgive me a minute.

Justno.

Cold and clean and absolute.

I stared at her, my mouth already opening, a dozen different things rising at once—What the fuck changed? What happened between Saturday and now? Why are you looking at me like this?—but she was already turning away.

She moved toward her car with her spine straight and her shoulders rigid, every line of her body telegraphing the same message.

Distance.

I stood there on the sidewalk and watched her go, my hands curling into fists so tight my nails bit into my palms.