11-28-2025, 06:23 PM
As Carter stalked off, Jay tried to imagine ironing the man's socks. It would work out well in the marines, he supposed. Every aspect of their uniforms were regulated, but he'd pay good money to watch him attempt to do pushups. Imagining Isobel walking down the aisle with a stiff like that was equally as absurd, not because there was something humorous about the pair of them. From what little Natalie said, he imagined Isobel as the proper lady.
His eyes narrowed as a spike of chill pebbled his skin. He'd come to ignore the damp, but only after a wash of warmth tugged the water from the cloth did her soft, teasing tone alleviate the wrongness he hadn't realized seeped in until it was gone.
The question was an uncomfortable itch he couldn't scratch. His mind scrambled, searching for the safe, non-committal answer he’d already decided upon. Not because it was a lie, but because it was the reality of the night. Nox. Just the name was a liability, a complex knot of shame and poor decisions he did not have the energy to untangle tonight. It wasn’t just a simple encounter; it was a confrontation that spoke of his capacity for self-sabotage, a trait he spent every day trying to bury.
But the real, stomach twisting revelation arrived moments later, wrapped in the smooth, almost casual rhythm of her voice as she admitted something. Jay’s breath hitched. He felt his adrenaline spike, a clean, sudden burn that shoved aside the throbbing pain in his right hand. The world didn’t shrink to the waiting room; it collapsed to the two of them. Natalie, the coffee, the bag slung over her shoulder that had no apparent explanation. His vision tunneled. He didn’t care what Carter or his heiress were doing. He didn’t care about the Custody, the Volthströms, or the Dominion badge that was suddenly burning a hole through his shoulder.
He saw the facade of her composure. The utter lack of exhaustion driven by pure stress. The way her hand rested near his coat, near the buttons, not quite touching, was a sign of a vulnerability she usually masked with iron will. His jaw tightened. He ignored the sudden pull of the nurse calling Carter's name. This wasn't about a broken hand anymore.
He looked at the oversized bag on her shoulder, wary of its significance.
“Nat,” he said, frown deep. “What happened?”
His eyes narrowed as a spike of chill pebbled his skin. He'd come to ignore the damp, but only after a wash of warmth tugged the water from the cloth did her soft, teasing tone alleviate the wrongness he hadn't realized seeped in until it was gone.
The question was an uncomfortable itch he couldn't scratch. His mind scrambled, searching for the safe, non-committal answer he’d already decided upon. Not because it was a lie, but because it was the reality of the night. Nox. Just the name was a liability, a complex knot of shame and poor decisions he did not have the energy to untangle tonight. It wasn’t just a simple encounter; it was a confrontation that spoke of his capacity for self-sabotage, a trait he spent every day trying to bury.
But the real, stomach twisting revelation arrived moments later, wrapped in the smooth, almost casual rhythm of her voice as she admitted something. Jay’s breath hitched. He felt his adrenaline spike, a clean, sudden burn that shoved aside the throbbing pain in his right hand. The world didn’t shrink to the waiting room; it collapsed to the two of them. Natalie, the coffee, the bag slung over her shoulder that had no apparent explanation. His vision tunneled. He didn’t care what Carter or his heiress were doing. He didn’t care about the Custody, the Volthströms, or the Dominion badge that was suddenly burning a hole through his shoulder.
He saw the facade of her composure. The utter lack of exhaustion driven by pure stress. The way her hand rested near his coat, near the buttons, not quite touching, was a sign of a vulnerability she usually masked with iron will. His jaw tightened. He ignored the sudden pull of the nurse calling Carter's name. This wasn't about a broken hand anymore.
He looked at the oversized bag on her shoulder, wary of its significance.
“Nat,” he said, frown deep. “What happened?”
Only darkness shows you the light.