Page 134 of Cold Mercy

“Are you hearing yourself?” I hiss. “I say no to you, and five minutes later you’re smashing someone into a wall. What is that supposed to prove? That you can’t control yourself?”

“I know how it looks,” he says, jaw tight. “And I know it’s fucked up. But I wasn’t going to stand there and listen to him talk about you like that.”

I let out a humorless laugh, blinking fast to keep the tears back.

“Oh, don’t do that. Don’t play the noble caveman card. You had to go break someone’s jaw to feel better?”

“That’s not—”

“It is,” I cut in, my voice cracking. “That’s exactly what it looks like, and I’m exhausted, Thomas. I’m fucking exhausted.”

I loosen my grip on his tie, smoothing the fabric obsessively.

“What now? We just keep doing this? You explode, I clean up the mess, we pretend it means something deeper, and then we’re right back where we started?”

“I’m not pretending,” he says, and the intensity in his voice makes my breath hitch. “And this isn’t about some wounded pride.”

“Oh please,” I scoff bitterly. “Poor Thomas. First woman who didn’t melt at the smirk and sweet talk, so now you’re determined to bulldoze your way into her life until she caves.”

He freezes, and the air between us shifts.

“Let’s start with how fucking wrong you are,” he says, heat creeping into his voice. “You’re not a prize I couldn’t win. You’re the first woman I’ve ever wanted like this. Not because it’s easy, not because it feeds my ego.”

He steps into my space, forcing me to look up at him.

“I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. I’ve never felt this pulled off-balance. And I don’t even have the words for it yet, but I know it’s real.”

His jaw tightens, and his eyes shine despite the anger.

“And what?” I snap, trying to hold on to my rage because it’s safer than believing him. “Now I’m supposed to feel sorry for you because you caught some feelings?”

“No,” he says immediately. “You don’t owe me shit.”

He takes a breath, steadying himself. “But don’t turn this into something cheap. Don’t tell me this is about my muscles or my temper. I’m here because I choose you, even knowing we’re both broken.”

I shake my head, stepping back like the space might help me breathe.

“That’s the problem,” I whisper. “We are broken. We go in circles, we crash, burn, rebuild, and crash again. It’s exhausting.”

“I know,” he says softly. “And I’m not denying that.”

Blood on his knuckles, sweat on his brow, looking at me like I’m the only thing keeping him upright.

“So why won’t you stop?” I ask, voice trembling.

“Because walking away from you feels worse than staying and being fucked up with you,” he says. “And I’m done pretending I don’t want you.”

Step to the edge, let him hold your hand, while everything turns to shifting sand. Let him enter, let him stay, and watch how he breaks you, day by day.

I open my mouth to answer, to tell him he’s crazy, unhinged, or just fucking insane, but James appears looking horrified.

“Uh…is…everything okay here?”

“Yes,” I say, quickly smoothing my hair. “Everything is fine, nothing happened. We’re just…talking. Go back inside, please.”

James backs away slowly. When he’s gone, I turn back to Thomas.

“We need to end this misery for good,” I say. “Not here, come on.”