Page 28 of Cold Mercy

He doesn’t look at me, just laughs under his breath.

“You’re still on that? What exactly are your expectations of people? That they’re only allowed one skill at a time?”

“Rowan doesn’t even let me touch him some days,” I mutter. “But sure, go ahead and pretend it’s normal that he suddenly loves you.”

Thomas pats Rowan’s neck.

“See? The horse already adores me. Same as Mrs. Gonzalez, and, of course, you.”

I glare at him.

“Now tell me why you asked me to come.” His voice knocks the air right out of me.

God, that tone is too direct, too steady. It throws me just enough that I actually stumble over my words like I’ve forgotten how to speak properly. Perfect, exactly the level of composure I was aiming for.

Focus, for God's sake. The plan was to hand over a piece of fabric for his suit. It was not supposed to involve riding around on horseback like I'd accidentally signed up for a countryside date I never agreed to.

It's been years since anyone has knocked me this far off balance, especially not like this and certainly not with just a voice.

“I… right,” I say, clearing my throat. “I have something for you.”

He waits patiently, and the silence only makes me feel more ridiculous for even considering saying it out loud.

“The suit insert. The one for your tux. I—” His laugh cuts me off.

“That’s why you dragged me out on your unpredictable horse? I don’t see any insert on you.”

Damn, he’s so irritating.

“Okay, fine, you win. Come on, let's go back, I’ll make you tea, and we’ll sit like normal people. Or at least I’ll pretend you’re not impossible to deal with.”

We ride back to the stables in silence, and once we're there, I finally face him.

“Also, I wanted to apologize,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “You shouldn’t have seen what you saw that night. You shouldn’t carry that. I shouldn’t-”

“Stop it.”

He says it sharply enough that I blink.

“I get that you hide behind that cold, untouchable thing you do, but I’ve been there, Sophia. I know what it feels like. And you don’t owe me an explanation. Ever. So don’t do that again, are we clear?”

I don’t know how to read that. If he’s shutting the topic down or stopping me from blaming myself.

“Ye–yes. Thank you,” I whisper.

Our eyes meet for too long, too heavy to turn away. And then my phone rings with an unrecognized number, likely a burner from one of my contacts.

My stomach tightens.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell him, already stepping away.

He watches me like I owe him an answer, like he has a right to ask who’s calling.

But he doesn’t, and he won’t get it. I leave him in the barn and leave it myself so that he can't hear anything. I answer the call the moment I step outside, and a man's voice immediately comes through the line.

“You remember when you asked me to check that computer service company Noah used every month?”

I may have him check innocent people, but I have to catch literally everything now.