Page 69 of When the Storm Breaks
She lifts it, her eyes on mine, and tilts the glass in a quiet toast.
“Cheers.”
Her voice is warm. Easy. Like she’s letting herself settle into this moment, too.
I watch as she takes a slow sip, her body visibly relaxing. Thetension unwinds from her shoulders, her lashes fluttering as she swallows.
She giggles—a soft sound, sudden and light.
And it fucking wrecks me.
My chest tightens, and I don’t even know why.
“Okay, Haiyden, first of all, that’s a huge pour,” she says, her tone teasing, lips curved into something dangerously close to playful. “And what is this? It’s really good.”
I almost reach for the bottle.
Almost tell her.
But I stop—because suddenly, I feel fucking self-conscious.
I force a casual shrug. “It’s new. We just picked it up here.”
She swirls the glass, watching the liquid catch the light, and I notice how easy she seems now. Comfortable.
The pull to stay right here, like this, is strong.
But out of the corner of my eye, I catch the movement—people crowding the bar.
Tanner’s flustered face comes into view. Of course.
I lean in slightly, my voice low, meant just for her. “I think Tanner’s head might actually explode if I don’t help him out.”
Her lips twitch like she’s holding back a laugh.
I turn toward the chaos, but not before glancing back at her over my shoulder.
“Let me know if you need anything.”
The words come out softer than I mean them to—quieter, but heavier somehow. Like they mean more than I’m willing to admit.
She doesn’t say anything, just watches me with her fingers curled loosely around her glass, her expression unreadable. But as I turn back toward the chaos behind the bar, I feel it.
Theanythingliving between us.
Chapter 23
Haiyden
She’s quiet for most of the night.
During the rush, I steal a few glances her way. Each time, she’s hunched over her phone, scrolling with that particular kind of focus that isn’t really focus—it’s avoidance. Like she’s using the screen as a shield, something to block out the chaos around her. Maybe even me.
A pang of guilt tugs at me.
I’m the one who told her to come. Pulled her out of whatever routine she was trying to hold on to.
But there’s another quieter, more selfish part of me that’s glad she did.
