Page 14 of Captured Immune

“Sure.”

He drags my bath towel off the bar, then freezes. An invisible fist punches me in the gut. “What the fuck happened there?”

It takes me a second to register what his eyes are glued to. It’s a gaping hole in the wall below the towel bar—evidence of my ex’s lingering presence.

“Nathan,” I say, and it’s all the explanation he needs.

Trey’s face turns sour. “When?”

“A year ago, maybe?”

“I swear, if he ever touches you again, I’ll kill him.”

I’d think he’s just spitting out words, but the conviction in his tone and the anger radiating off him makes me think he’s serious.

Trey rubs the towel all over his hair, then hangs it back up. It’s not the way I usually do it. I typically spread the towel out to make sure it conceals the hole. Trey’s version is messy and hugs the right side too much. I’ll fix it later.

“Would you like to sit down now?” I ask.

Trey nods with his hair sticking up in all directions. I open my mouth, about to offer him a comb, then I don’t. He looks cute like this.

He gestures for me to walk out first. I do and sense his cloud of despair follow me to the living room.

I set the pills on the coffee table. “I’ll leave these here for you to take later.”

His gloominess trails me to the kitchen, where I snatch a clean glass from the cabinet and fill it with some filtered water from the fridge.

I offer him the glass. “Drink up.”

Without hesitation, he accepts it and finishes it in three gulps. I can’t imagine what little time it took him to down that tequila.

“Thanks.” He pushes the empty glass toward me.

I fill it again. “Want some more?”

“Maybe later.” He stares at me with his captivating blue-gray eyes. If he keeps looking at me so intensely like that, I might fall under his spell again.Not that I’ve fallen out of it.

For the fourth time tonight, I ask, “Why are you here, Trey?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

My heart does a pathetic little happy dance. My head scowls at my heart for being so easily fooled.

Without a word, Trey takes my hand and leads me to the couch. When he sits, he gestures for me to sit as well. I don’t, and he doesn’t force me either. Instead, he takes my hands into his and kisses the tops of my knuckles. Whatever wizardry spell he’s casting on me, it’s working.

I plant myself onto the couch next to him. “You can sleep here tonight if you want.”

“I don’t wanna sleep.” He keeps my hands in his so tightly, it leaves no room for me to pull away, which is probably his intent.

“What do you want to do, then?”

“I wanna kiss you.”

My lips tingle, as does everything between my legs, betraying me. Thankfully, my brain takes over before my body can. “No kissing. You have to sleep off all that alcohol.”

He pouts a little, and it’s adorable. “Can we kiss in the morning?”

Finally, I draw my hands back and scowl at him. “Did you forget that we broke up?”

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