TOO CLOSE

CHAPTER 18

The candles had burned low by the time we finally set the photograph aside.

For several minutes, neither of us spoke.

The study had become quieter somehow, as though everything we'd discussed had settled into the walls around us.

"You should sleep," Roman said.

He made no move to leave.

I glanced at the clock.

"You're one to talk."

Something almost like a smile touched his mouth.

It looked strange on him.

Not unpleasant.

Just unfamiliar.

Like a muscle he'd forgotten how to use.

"What were you like," I asked, "before all of this?"

His eyebrow lifted.

"All of what?"

"Before you were Alpha. Before the council. Before you had an entire territory depending on you."

He leaned back slightly.

"That's an odd question for two in the morning."

"You just showed me the most painful secret you've been carrying for two years."

I gave him a small smile.

"I think I've earned an easy question."

He considered that.

"Fair."

His gaze drifted toward the dark window.

"I used to hunt."

"Actually hunt?"

"Actually hunt."

A faint trace of amusement entered his voice.

"Not patrols. Not pack business. I liked being outside more than I liked sitting in rooms like this one."

"What happened to that?"

"Responsibility happened."

He said it without bitterness.

"There wasn't much room for a man who wanted to disappear into the woods for an afternoon once he became Alpha."

"That sounds lonely."

He looked at me.

"It was necessary."

A pause.

"And lonely."

The honesty caught me off guard.

"Both can be true," he added.

I studied him.

The tired lines around his eyes.

The tension he carried even when he was sitting still.

"What about before Lyra died?"

His expression changed slightly.

"Were you different with people?"

"Apparently."

"Tessa told me that."

"I assumed she might."

"She said you laughed more."

A faint breath escaped him.

"I don't remember being that different."

"Maybe you don't notice what you've lost until someone tells you."

Roman's gaze dropped to the desk.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then he looked at me.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"What did you want before the contract?"

I hadn't expected the question.

"Nothing complicated."

I smiled faintly.

"A small house, maybe. A shop of my own someday."

"What kind of shop?"

"Flowers."

Then I shook my head.

"Or bread."

"Those are very different businesses."

"I know."

I laughed quietly.

"That's why I could never decide."

He smiled again.

This time, I saw it.

Really saw it.

And something inside me softened.

"I used to think about it while I was waiting tables," I continued. "Where I'd put the windows. What I'd sell. What the shelves would look like."

"What stopped you?"

"Life."

The word came out simpler than I expected.

"My family needed me."

Roman's expression became thoughtful.

"And after the contract?"

I looked at him.

"What happens to all of that?"

He didn't answer immediately.

"I don't know."

The words were quiet.

Honest.

The question remained between us, unanswered on purpose.

I looked down at my hands.

"Do you ever feel like wanting something new means you're leaving Lyra behind?"

Roman went completely still.

I immediately regretted asking.

"You don't have to answer that."

"No."

His voice was calm.

"It's fair."

He looked down at his hands.

"Some days, moving forward feels too much like forgetting."

My chest tightened.

"Like caring about something else would somehow make what I had with her less important."

I shook my head.

"It wouldn't."

He looked up.

"Moving forward doesn't erase someone."

Something changed in his expression.

Not dramatically.

Just enough for me to see that the words had reached somewhere he normally kept locked away.

"You don't have to stop loving someone to keep living," I said softly.

Roman held my gaze.

"I know."

But the way he said it told me knowing and believing were two different things.

Neither of us spoke.

Then I realized how close we'd become.

At some point, we'd both leaned forward over the desk.

His knee brushed mine beneath it.

Neither of us moved away.

"Mira."

My name sounded different in his voice.

Quiet.

Careful.

"Yes?"

His hand lifted.

Slowly.

Giving me every opportunity to pull away.

I didn't.

His fingers reached my face and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

They lingered.

Just for a moment.

Then his fingertips rested lightly against my cheek.

My breath caught.

Roman's eyes dropped to my mouth.

My heart began beating so hard I was certain he could hear it.

He leaned closer.

Not enough to touch.

Just enough that I could feel the warmth of his breath.

"Mira..."

His thumb moved gently along my cheek.

"There is something I"

KNOCK. KNOCK.

We both pulled apart.

The sound seemed impossibly loud in the quiet study.

"Alpha."

A voice came through the door.

Urgent.

"Forgive the hour. There's a border matter. It can't wait until morning."

Roman closed his eyes.

For one brief second, I watched him gather himself.

The softness disappeared.

His shoulders straightened.

His expression hardened.

The Alpha returned.

"A moment," he called.

His voice was already different.

Commanding.

Controlled.

He stood and straightened his shirt.

I remained seated.

Neither of us mentioned what had almost happened.

At the door, Roman stopped.

His hand rested on the handle.

He looked back at me.

For one second, I thought he might say something.

Anything.

Instead, he said,

"Not like this."

Then he opened the door.

He was gone a moment later.

The door clicked shut.

His footsteps faded down the corridor.

I sat alone in the study, staring at the dying candle.

Slowly, my fingers rose to my cheek.

The place where his hand had been still felt warm.

Not like this.

I didn't know what he meant.

Maybe he meant the contract.

Maybe Lyra.

Maybe the fact that we were sitting in the middle of an investigation into her death when we'd nearly crossed a line neither of us was ready to name.

Or maybe he simply meant that if something happened between us, he didn't want it to happen because grief had left him vulnerable.

I didn't know.

And somehow, the not-knowing hurt more than I expected.

Roman had almost kissed me.

But that wasn't the dangerous part.

The dangerous part was that I'd wanted him to.

And for the first time, I wasn't sure whether I was afraid of where this was going

or hoping it would go there.