Page 35 of Mate Night Snack
He offered her his hand. She slapped it away.
“Again.”
They ran the drill twice more. The third time, she moved faster. Less thought. More instinct. She pivoted, ducked his reach, and caught him off-balance. But he recovered fast, grabbing her wrist and twisting them into a roll she didn’t see coming.
They landed in a heap. Her breath punched out of her lungs. His arms were braced around her. Her knees had tangled with his legs. And when she opened her eyes, he was right there.
Inches away.
His chest heaved under her palms. His flannel had come undone at the collar, revealing a sliver of scarred skin at the base of his throat. His eyes weren’t blue anymore.
They were amber.
Neither moved.
Her hand lifted slowly, almost without thought, brushing his cheekbone with just the edge of her fingers. She leaned in because it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Like gravity had been waiting for them to be this close.
But before her lips could meet his, Emmett shifted.
Not away, but inward. Retreating into himself.
He turned his face and eased out from beneath her, standing in one smooth, practiced motion. “I can’t,” he said quietly.
Katniss sat up, breath still catching in her throat.
She didn’t ask why and she didn’t press. But the sting was there anyway, blooming low in her chest, quiet and sharp.
She nodded once. Brushed grass from her arms.
“Right,” she said, not quite meeting his eyes. “Let’s keep going.”
But they didn’t spar again. They stood there in the clearing, a breath apart, surrounded by birdsong and a silence that buzzed louder than words.
He watched her.
She didn’t look back because part of her already knew.
He was afraid.
Not of her. Ofwhat she meant.
And worse?
So was she.
14
EMMETT
The Silver Fang Tavern was half-empty, which was exactly how Emmett liked it.
The lanterns cast a soft amber glow across the knotty pine bar. Dust motes spun lazy circles in the slanted light, and somewhere in the back, the old jukebox crackled to life with a bluesy track that didn’t belong on any official playlist.
Emmett took his usual seat at the end of the bar, the one tucked just close enough to the corner that he could watch both the front door and the hallway to the back.
Maeve slid a tumbler across the polished wood before he could say a word.
“Rough morning?” she asked, leaning her elbows against the bar.
