“So,” I say, gesturing vaguely. “How’s, uh… how's the cell?”
 
 What the fuck, Myles?
 
 She gives me a look that's not scared… not exactly, but cautious. Confused.
 
 “I brought you a granola bar.” I toss it onto her bed like it's a live grenade and immediately regret that too. “Zane says you like them.”
 
 Silence stretches. My skin itches with it.
 
 How does Zane do this?
 
 Glancing at a chair by one of the desks, I drag it over and sit across from her like I've rehearsed this… because Ihave, God help me.
 
 “So…” I start, slower this time. “I just wanted to, y’know… check in. See how you're, uh… holding up.”
 
 She blinks. I blink back. Like a reflection in a mirror—one of us trapped, both of us waiting for the other to crack.
 
 This is hell.
 
 I want to slam my fist into the wall. Want todosomething. I want her to look at me, but not like I'm a threat. Like I matter. Similar to how she did the first day when she saw us and her eyes went wide with that mix of fear and awe.
 
 Pushing the frustration down, I try to keep it small. But it doesn't stay small.
 
 “You've been talking to Zane,” I say suddenly.
 
 Her expression shifts and her shoulders tense.
 
 “Is that—” I cut myself off before I can say something possessive.Nice save, idiot.
 
 Running a hand through my hair, I let out a sharp breath.
 
 “Do you… talk to him about… stuff?” I ask, chest tightening like a vice. “I mean… that's good. You feel safe with him?”
 
 She nods.
 
 Something twists in me and my teeth grind together.
 
 “I can be that too, you know,” I say, too fast now. “Safe. Or whatever. I'm just—Look, none of this is coming out right. I’m not great at this ‘slow stuff’. The talking. The… softness.”
 
 Her eyes are still on me, but not in the way I want. Embarrassment floods through me.
 
 I'm making a fool of myself! Stumbling over my words, as if each one matters. Shooting to my feet, I pace the room like it’ll shake this feeling off.
 
 “Every time I try something, I fuck it up. I don't know how to make you trust me… it's… it’s driving mefucking insane,” my voice rises before I can stop it.
 
 She shrinks back a little, and I freeze.
 
 “Shit,” Ibreathe, squeezing my eyes shut. “I'm doing it again.”
 
 Dragging my hand down my face, I lower myself back into the chair, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor.
 
 “I want you to talk to me. That's all,” I say, voice raw now. “I want to hear your voice... like you do for Zane.”
 
 A second passes.
 
 “I—I don't want to be the one that makes you flinch.”
 
 Glancing back up at her, I see she's still watching me. Still quiet. But her hand, it's holding the granola bar now… and it isn't trembling anymore.