Page 46 of Knotting on Heaven's Door

The weight of him watching me.

I was stacking empty containers when I glanced up—and there he was. Leaning slightly against the prep table, towel slung over his shoulder, gaze locked on me. But it wasn’t the usual teasing glint in his eye.

Something had shifted.

There was quiet in his stare now. Something more… restrained. Calculated.

I straightened, suddenly very aware of the silence, of the ghost of what had happened here. In this kitchen. The counter, the closeness, the heat that had nothing to do with the ovens.

My wrist buzzed.

That goddamn reminder again.

Almost instinctively, Sebastian’s eyes flicked to the sound. He didn’t speak—but I saw the tension in his shoulders. Saw the way his jaw clenched, like he recognized it before I even moved.

I turned without a word and walked into my office, the door clicking shut behind me.

I pulled the bottle from the drawer. These weren’t the usual ones. Stronger now. More precise. My doctor had said the dosage would dull the heat signals completely. Make it easier. Safer. More manageable.

I took them with water from my thermos, swallowing quickly, not allowing myself to feel anything.

But even as I leaned back in my chair, eyes closed, trying to let the silence settle over me… I couldstillfeel his gaze. Like a pull under my skin. And this time, I didn’t know if the pills would be enough.

I stayed in my office a little longer, just long enough to clear the last few emails and pretend I wasn’t too exhausted to keep my eyes open. My body ached in that deeply satisfying, post-chaos way—like every limb was reminding me I’d earned today’s victory, but would be paying for it tomorrow.

When I finally shut down my laptop, the kitchen was quiet.Empty. The lights dimmed, the buzz of adrenaline long gone. I locked up, wrapped my coat around me, and stepped into the cool summer night.

The street was quiet, just the occasional sound of distant cars and the dull hum of the town settling into dusk.

And there he was.

Sebastian.

Leaning against the bus stop post, hands in his pockets, staring down the street like he could will the bus into existence.

I paused.

For a moment, I considered driving right past him. Keeping whatever fragile truce we’d found buried in kitchen heat and emergency plating strictly professional.

But something in me shifted.

He didn’t deserve to walk tonight.

Not after what he gave today.

“Need a ride?” I called out.

He turned, that familiar half-smile already tugging at his mouth. “Depends. Is there going to be a background check?”

I rolled my eyes and unlocked my car. “Get in.”

He jogged over and slid into the passenger seat like he’d done it a hundred times before. We didn’t speak at first, the low hum of the engine filling the space between us. But I couldfeelsomething buzzing off of him—something different.

He looked… proud.Happy, in that quiet way people did when they finally caught a break.

“I’m not going to the hotel,” he said, grin widening.

I glanced at him, surprised. “No?”

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