Lennox's POV
When she told me to stop, I froze.
Not because I wanted to, but because my body obeyed before my mind could catch up.
I turned slowly, my hand still on the door. The corridor light spilled into the room behind me, casting her in shadow and gold. She stood there rigid, chin lifted, eyes suddenly filled with pain.
"Come back," she said.
Not an order.
Not a command.
A request.
That was worse.
I stepped back inside and closed the door quietly behind me.
She didn't speak right away. She walked past me instead, moving toward the small table by the window where a half-finished bottle of amber liquor sat untouched. She poured two glasses with an unsteady hand and pushed one toward me without looking.
"Drink," she said.
I should have refused.
I knew that.
Every instinct screamed that this was a line I couldn't afford to cross.
But I took the glass. I missed her… missed being this close to her.
The liquor burned going down. She drank hers faster. Too fast.
