Roman should have been resting. Richard had said it. Ronnie had repeated it at least five times. Even Mr. Davis had called to emphasize it. And Misty—especially Misty—had practically lectured him into the ground. But Roman Collahan was Roman Collahan, and Roman Collahan did not listen to anyone when his pride was involved.
By morning, he was up from bed, disregarding the ache in his ribs as he buttoned into a crisp shirt. He fastened it stiffly with a locked jaw, his resolution being to act as though nothing hurt. Halfway through securing the last button, Misty appeared at the door of his bedroom uninvited, a tray with his breakfast in her hands, her face a mask of fury and incredulity.
"You're up," she said flatly.
Roman didn't look at her. "Obviously."
"You were supposed to stay in bed."
He refused to acknowledge the tight pull in her voice. "It's just a few bruises."
"You fought three grown men!" she snapped.
"And I'm fine."
"You're not fine!
Roman let out a slow breath, as though her frustration was an annoyance and not concern. "Misty, drop it.
"No," she said, coming into the room. "I'm not dropping anything. You almost got yourself seriously hurt last night."
"For you," he muttered before he could stop himself.
Silence.
Misty blinked, thrown for a moment. "I didn't ask you to."
"I didn't ask for your permission."
She stared at him. Roman acted like he hadn't noticed, though heat pooled in his chest in a way that felt dangerously like vulnerability.
Misty set the tray down on his desk with a clatter. "You're impossible."
Roman adjusted his collar. "And you're loud."
"You're careless."
"You're dramatic."
"You're stubborn!"
"You're—"
"— trying to keep you alive," she finished sharply.
Roman stopped.
The room seemed suddenly to shrink.
Her hands shook at her sides, yet her voice didn't waver as she added, "I don't want anyone getting hurt because of me. Not again."
Roman turned then, his movements slow as if he was afraid any sudden movement would break the fragile truth she'd just let slip. Her eyes were lowered, her shoulders tight. Something inside him twisted.
"You're not a burden," he replied softly.
Misty looked up-too quickly, too vulnerably. "You don't know that."
"I know enough."
The tension grew, pressing between them like a living thing. Misty's breath hitched and Roman felt his own tighten in response. It was a moment that unsettled him, because nothing about Misty followed rules-especially the ones he relied on.
Misty apparently moved towards the door to get away from that feeling. "I'm done arguing. Rest or not rest, I really don't care."
"Yes, you do," Roman said.
She stopped in her tracks.
He wished he could take the words back instantly, not because they were not true, but because of how raw they sounded. Misty stiffened, refusing to look at him.
"I don't have time for this," she said.
"Misty."
She took another step.
Roman's patience finally snapped. "Stop walking away from me."
She just ignored him.
He closed the distance before he realised he was doing it. His hand wrapped gently-but firmly-around her wrist. Misty froze mid-step, her breath catching. Roman felt her pulse jump beneath his fingers, quick and startled.
"Let go," she said, whispering, although not pulling too hard.
"No," Roman said, his voice low. "Not until we're done talking."
"We've said enough."
"We've said nothing."
Misty swallowed, eyes darting everywhere but his face. "Roman, I don't want to fight anymore."
"I'm not fighting you."
"You always are."
"Not right now."
She finally looked up at him.
They were too close. Closer than they'd ever been. He felt her breath brush his chest, quick and uneven. His own heart pounded in a way that made no sense for someone who prided himself on control.
"Misty," he said softly, "what happened last night--
"Nothing happened," she cut in, too fast.
Roman's jaw flexed. "Stop pretending you didn't feel the shift."
She tensed.
"It was just adrenaline," she said.
"Liar."
Her eyes went wide, shocked that he'd said it. Roman didn't back down. He didn't know how to be gentle with the truth-not when it felt like it was dragging itself out of him.
"You're scared," he said quietly.
Misty's chin rose defensively. "Of what? You?
"No," he breathed, "of this."
The truth hung between them, sharp and fragile.
Her wrist was still in his hand, but she wasn't pulling away. Roman stepped closer, not enough to crowd her, but enough to acknowledge what they were both trying-and failing-to deny.
"Misty," he whispered, his voice shaking with emotion he couldn't explain, "tell me to stop."
She stared at him, her breathing uneven, her lips parted in silent confusion. She could have stepped back. She could have twisted her wrist out of his. She could have said a single word and ended the moment before it crossed a line.
She didn't.
Roman's chest rose with a deep, shaking breath. "Say it," he whispered.
Nothing.
She had opted to remain silent.
Roman leaned in-slowly, giving her every second to turn away. When she didn't, his forehead brushed against hers, barely a touch. Misty's breath caught again, this time with a sound that made Roman's heartbeat lose its rhythm.
Then, as if pulled by something neither of them could resist, he kissed her.
It wasn't soft.
It wasn't soft.
Sharp, desperate, and terrifying in its intensity, two people who didn't trust or understand each other, and yet were drawn together with a force that made no sense. Misty grabbed onto the front of his shirt to steady herself. Roman's free hand hovered near her waist, not pulling her closer, as if even in chaos, he knew better than to cross that line.
At last, they separated, both panting.
Misty stared into his face, and Roman stared back, as shaken as the world was tilting under his feet.
"What… was that?" she whispered. Roman didn't know. Really, for the first time in years, he didn't know. "Something we can't undo." Misty swallowed. "And can't explain." "Not yet." She stepped backward, her heart racing, her cheeks flushed with confusion and fear and something dangerously close to longing. Roman didn't reach for her again. But he didn't look away either. And they both knew-even without having to say it-whatever boundary existed between them didn't anymore. Completely gone.