Page 108 of The Plus One Contract

“Look at me,” I tell him, my own heart beating maddening rhythms against my chest.

His gaze stays locked onto Daniel.

I press harder against his chest. “Nathan,” I whisper. “Look at me.”

His eyes drop to mine.

I see it then. The rage, yes, but beneath that, something deeper. Something protective.

I swallow, my palm still resting against his sternum, feeling the wild thud of his heartbeat beneath my fingertips.

“Did he hurt you?” he asks, his eyes sweeping over me, checking.

“I’m okay. He didn’t hurt me.”

His brows pull together. He’s not entirely convinced, so I offer him a softer smile, my fingers curling slightly against his shirt. “I promise.”

He’s still standing rigid, but his hands finally loosen at his sides.

Behind me, Daniel lets out a quiet scoff, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Nathan’s eyes snap back up.

I feel his body go taut again, coiled and ready to strike.

I step up on my toes, brushing my hand lightly over his shoulder, drawing his attention back to me. “It’s not worth it,” I murmur. “He’s not worth it.”

His throat bobs.

For a long moment, he just stares at me, like he’s debating whether or not to listen, until finally, he exhales, his head tilting just slightly, like he’s seeing me again.

My shoulders release some stress when I see the corner of his mouth curl ever so slightly.

“Yeah, looks like you can handle yourself just fine.”

I smile back, but it’s shaky.

“I just want to get out of here,” I tell him, my voice quieter now.

I risk a quick look over my shoulder at Daniel, whose lips are parted slightly, something flickering in his expression. Maybe he expected a threat. Maybe he was bracing for Nathan to swing first, to give him an excuse to fight back.

But Nathan doesn’t give him what he wants.

He gives him nothing.

No threats. No parting words. Not even the satisfaction of a final glare.

Just cold, calculated indifference, the kind that makes it clear Daniel isn’t even worth a second of his time.

He turns back to me, slides his palm against mine, and laces our fingers together like a silent promise.

He guides me away from the pool, away fromhim, away from everything that just happened, and I let him.

Thirty-Nine

Istare at the ceiling, lamplight casting soft shadows on crisp white sheets, and wonder if I’ll ever be able to sleep again.

The night keeps replaying in my head, looping like a broken record I can’t turn off. Daniel. The pool. The anger burning through me so hot I could barely see straight. Nathan stepping between us, solid and steady, his presence the only thing keeping me from spiraling.

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