Page 157 of Safe Word

Something tight passed over his face.

Cain’s jaw flexed. ‘We can reschedule.’

‘Not really one we can push,’ his friend challenged, his smile never reaching his eyes. ‘She flew in.’

I took a sip of coffee. ‘It’s okay. A distraction sounds good. Cain?’ I prompted gently.

‘Hm?’

I lifted my brows just slightly. ‘Are you okay doing it?’

There was a beat of silence – a pause thick enough to register. His expression changed. Relaxed. His eyes locked onto mine, unblinking. And in that second, I realised something: I don’t think people asked him that very often.

‘Yeah…’ he said, voice low. ‘Yeah. I am.’

At the door, Vinnie stopped, grabbed his flip-flops, and paused. The weight of his gaze lingered – not on my bruise this time, but on something invisible between Cain and me.

‘I’ll see you both later,’ he said, too tightly. Then closed the door with a thud – just a fraction too loud.

I stared after him, guilt twisting my gut for some reason.

He meant well. He always had. I wondered what else he’d seen that had put him down so hard. Was my attraction to Cain so obvious that Vinnie could pick up on it?

The moment pulled at me, but I pushed it aside with a shaky inhale, choosing instead to focus on the man in front of me. The man who had saved me.

‘Cain,’ I said, trying to keep my voice steady, though it still sounded far too soft. ‘I want to thank you for last night.’

He sobered instantly, then shook his head as he set the plates and the cutlery between us. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner.’

His hand lingered on the plate, thumb brushing the ceramic as if he’d forgotten what he was doing. Then he bent forward, bracing his palms on the counter, gaze drifting out the window.

‘Did I scare you last night?’

I wasn’t sure if it was the question that caught me off guard or the gentleness in his voice.

I set my fork down, my appetite momentarily forgotten as I looked up at him. His words were weighted with something I couldn’t immediately place. Blame? Fear?

Trying to understand the concept behind the question, I studied his face. I had been dead scared before he’d arrived. I didn’t think it would have been possible for me to be scared of him after everything. Not when he’d stood between death and me.

The powerful presence he’d exuded last night was still there, but now it was tempered by vulnerability, an openness that tugged at something sore in my ribs.

‘No,’ I said softly, shaking my head as I held his gaze. ‘You didn’t scare me.’ I paused, willing him to hear the truth in my voice. ‘You have no idea…’ I paused again, not trying to sound too needy. ‘When you barged in, I was so relieved.’

Cain’s teeth clenched at my response, the muscles there working overtime. His eyes searched mine, looking for cracks, for any trace of fear I wasn’t admitting to.

‘You can tell me the truth,’ he said quietly, uncertain in a way that seemed almost out of character for him. ‘You don’t see me… as someone losing control?’

Oh…

I blinked. Twice. That slow ache in my chest spreading.

I tipped forward, the heat of the mug tethering me to reason.

‘Not even a little. What you did last night…’ I hesitated, breath catching. ‘No one’s ever done that for me. I owe you.’

He shook his head dismissively. ‘That’s nonsense. You don’t owe me a thing.’

Before I could argue, he grabbed a plate, dropped a crêpe onto it, and slid it in front of me with a casual efficiency that didn’t match the conversation.