Page 27 of What I Should Have Done

“Gotta piss,” I answered casually. “What are you doing out here?”

She opened her eyes and lifted her chin; her gaze met mine. “Needed to pee.” Her fingers scratched at the base of her neck, and the end of her braid slipped free of a pin she must have accidentally knocked loose. Her hair unraveled down her back.

Red flamed in her cheeks as she snatched the end of the braid, ready to coil it back up, but I couldn’t stop myself. My fingers wrapped around her hand, latching onto the tip of her hair and stopping her.

Tension filled her frame, her hand twitching beneath my palm, but she didn’t move. I shouldn’t have done it. I should have let her fingers immediately go. But the smooth strands of her tresses and the warmth from her skin drew me in. I stared at her touch. So small. My entire palm swallowed her hand whole, hiding it away in a world where there was no pain.

But it was the shift from feeling so trapped and alone to sharing some of that burden with someone else that surprised me the most. And how a simple touch could create such an intense change in the world as I knew it, was lost on me.

Scottie inhaled slowly, her brows inching together. I loosened my hold around her hand ever so slightly, and suddenly, her slender fingers slipped between mine.

I dared not move for fear of bursting whatever glass bubble we were in. Loneliness had been such a constant companion that it wasn’t until the first shimmer of sharing a secret with someone else had I even noticed its departure.

Here. Now. Her hand intertwined with mine. Sleek strands of hair caught between my palm and hers radiated a comfort that suddenly became all-consuming.

“Mikey,” she whispered, her eyes dropping to the braid clutched between our hands by her side.

Long past understanding, the simple sound of my name from her lips sent toe-curling warmth through my entire frame.

“I should go,” I managed to utter back. But she made no move to pull her fingers from mine. And I certainly made no effort to slip away. Everything in me commanded me to hold still, to soak in whatever was happening. Before this night was over and we were thrown back to the wolves, we could relish in the simplicity of an unexpected touch.

Then, ever so slowly, she gripped my fingers tighter, and a shaky exhale left her lips as she moved only her palm half an inch from mine.

The braid slipped from between our hands, leaving nothing but her skin against mine as I reconnected my calloused palm to hers. The sounds of the night floated away. If anyone else walked by at this moment, so be it. The only thing that registered in my head was her touch. Powerful.

Why the hell her simply holding my hand created such a visceral response in my body was a mystery, but I knew the goosebumps dancing across my skin, the trembling breaths drawn by my lungs were not a result of the cool, desert night. All of it was because of her.

Slowly, as if time no longer existed, my gaze shifted from our grasp to meet her eyes. But she did not look up from the touch. Confusion mixed with utter relief and blatant peace crossed in waves upon her face. One after the other, like the ocean crashing into the beach.

A smile twitched at the edge of my lips. This was wrong to be crossing into territory I didn’t understand, but damn, there was no denying her raw beauty. Silver moonlight danced across sharp features. She most certainly did not need my rescue; she never had. But to hell if I wouldn’t provide it.

Not only was she my teammate—

Shit. Teammate. That singular thought sliced through the undeniable gentle caress of the moment, and I tore my fingers from hers.

Her almond eyes widened, shooting away from her hand that remained frozen as if I was still holding it, and met mine.

“I should go,” I bluntly stated again, inhaling and exhaling as rapidly as my heart was pounding, and I took off across the compound, leaving her without another word.

What in the actual fuck was that?

Chapter 10

MIKEY

Sweat pooled against my lower back and dripped from my brow as I threw Bernie to the ground. Again.

The distraction I was searching for wasn’t working. No matter who approached me to spar, no matter how many times my fists made impact, the thought of last night had yet to leave my head.

“Damn, Mikey, let up a little would you?” Bernie croaked, dust settling around him.

“Again,” I demanded.

“Fuck no.” He rose from the ground, brushing off sand that clung to his own sweat. Shaking the adrenaline from my arms, I squared up to Bernie. He was the last one who willingly agreed to spar with me, and of course he was backing out—just like the rest of my opponents.

“Again,” I stated.

Bernie ran the back of his palm across his forehead, leaving a streak of dirt. “What the hell is going on with you today?”

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