The apartment feels strangely quieter after Noah leaves—like his presence stirred something in the air and now the silence is settling thick and heavy around me. I stand at the kitchen counter, rearranging spoons, shifting cups, touching things that don’t need to be touched. Anything to avoid thinking about the way Asher has been watching me since the door closed behind Noah.
I can feel his gaze even when he’s not looking directly at me—sharp, steady, controlled. It prickles against the back of my neck, makes my fingers clumsy and my heartbeat uneven. Eventually, avoiding him becomes impossible.
I draw in a slow breath.
“Asher… is something wrong?”
He doesn’t answer at first. Instead, he pushes away from the wall he’d been leaning on, the tightness in his jaw clear even under the warm
