Page 31 of Nikolay

I stared at him for a second. “See, that right there? That’s exactly why I’m making this easy for you.”

I shifted my feet again. I wanted him to see how steady I was. I wanted it enough to make it true.

“You go live your life,” I said. “I’ll go live mine. You don’t owe me an explanation, an apology, a lecture, or some polished version of events where I’m supposed to pretend I misunderstood what I saw. I didn’t.”

“Maddie.” My name in his mouth was rougher now, lower. “You are misunderstanding.”

“No, I am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

Something in me nearly broke at the force of how badly I wanted to believe that. I killed it on sight.

I took one small step back instead. “You had your hand in a woman’s hair and your mouth on her throat.”

His nostrils flared. “It was not—”

“It was exactly what it looked like.”

“It was not about her.”

The words landed strange between us, sharp enough to make my pulse stumble. For one stupid, dangerous second, my body reacted before my pride could stop it. Then sense returned, and I wanted to slap myself for the weakness.

I folded my arms around myself. “That may be the least flattering thing you could possibly say to her, but it doesn’t improve your case with me.”

His expression did something pained and furious at once.

Too bad.

I lifted one shoulder. “Look, I get it. I’m not what you want. I think we established that pretty thoroughly already, but in case there was any lingering confusion, tonight really put a nice clean edge on it.” My voice stayed maddeningly even, and I was proud of that enough to cling to it. “So I am telling you plainly: I am done being yanked around by whatever crisis of conscience you’ve got going on.”

“I have not been yanking you around.”

That almost made me smile for real.

“No?” I asked softly. “Then what would you call it?”

He had no answer fast enough to save himself with.

There was a whole library’s worth of hurt sitting under my breastbone by then, but I refused to hand him any of it raw. If he got anything from me tonight, it would be dignity and the sharp side of my mouth. He had earned nothing softer.

I nodded once, as if we had concluded a business matter. “Right. So here’s the good news. I’m not going to make this hard for you. Forget about it. Forget about me. Forget whatever weirdness has been crackling in the air every time we get near each other. I am happy to call it a mutual lapse in judgment and move on.”

“Maddie.”

The way he said my name that time should have done something to me. It did. I hated that. It grated on my nerves low and frayed, like he was holding on to the last thread of a rope he had already let burn through his hands.

I made myself colder.

“You don’t have to look like that,” I said. “I promise I’m not about to cry in your hallway.”

His face changed at that—not softer, exactly, but struck. I read it as guilt and hated him for making me kind enough to notice.

“I am not—”

“Uncomfortable?” I supplied. “Embarrassed? Regretting your timing?” I shook my head. “It’s fine. I said it’s fine.”

“It is not fine.”