Page 107 of Kneel with the King
That gets his attention. His head snaps toward me, eyes narrowed.
“You are unbelievable.”
“I learned from the best.”
He laughs once, sharp and humorless. “This is what it’s going to be, then? Petty revenge for me walking away? I should put my two weeks in now, then.”
“You didn’t just walk away,” I say, and my voice comes out sharper than I intended. “You made me believe—for a minute—that this wasn’t just a game to you. And then you bailed without a word, like I was nothing.”
“That’s because it was getting too—” He cuts himself off, looking away so quickly.
“Too what?” I press, leaning closer.
“Too real,” he bites out.
There it is. The words hang between us, almost visible in the cold air like smoke signals. My chest tightens, not because I didn’t already know, but because hearing him say it makes it impossible to keep pretending this is just business for me.
“You think I didn’t feel that too?” I ask quietly. “That maybe that’s why I’m so angry? Because, for once, it wasn’t pretend. Not for me.”
His mouth opens, then closes.
“I told you things I’ve never told anyone, Asher. I fell asleep next to you—twice. That’s not something I do. And you…” My throat tightens, but I push through it. “You left.”
“I had to,” he says, but it sounds weak even to him.
“You had to,” I repeat, disbelief dripping from every syllable. “Why? Because you’re so convinced that letting anyone in will make you weak? That it’ll ruin the perfectly controlled little life you’ve built?”
His face hardens. “That’s rich coming from you, Mr. Control-Everything-Or-Die.”
He’s not wrong, but I’m too stubborn to give him the satisfaction. “I control things because it keeps people safe. Because it keeps me safe. You? You run. Though in the end, I suppose it has the same result. Nobody gets close enough to hurt you, right? Except, you get to pretend it’s self-preservation instead of fear.”
That hits, I can tell. His shoulders stiffen, his eyes flash, but he doesn’t deny it. I take a breath and let the wind cut between us before stepping closer again, erasing the distance he tried to put there.
“Here’s the thing, Harrison. You don’t scare me off. You piss me off, sure. You make me want to shake you until your teeth rattle. But I’m not afraid of what this is.”
“This?” he echoes, his voice softer now.
“Us. Whatever the hell ‘us’ is.”
He looks down, the pink in his cheeks deepening, not just from the cold. For a second, I think he might actually say something honest.
Instead, he mutters, “We’re actively freezing to death right now. I’m not doing this here.”
“Too bad,” I say, matching his stubborn tone. “Because unless you’ve got a spare key card hidden in that perfectly tailored jacket, we’re not going anywhere.”
He huffs out a frustrated breath, but he doesn’t move away. The wind whips around us, and instinctively, he steps closer into my space, our coats brushing.
We stand like that for a long time, our chests heaving between us.
“I’m not good at this,” he admits.
I almost smile. “What, talking without your balls freezing off?”
“Feelings,” he says flatly. “Relationships. The whole…” He waves a hand between us. “Thing.”
“And you think I am?”
His eyes flick up, incredulous. “You act like you’ve got it all figured out.”
