“I think he was showing you something.”
That makes my stomach twist.
“And what exactly was that?” I ask.
“That he can reach you without crossing the line.”
The room feels smaller after that, and I hold his gaze even though part of me wants to look away, because if I do then this becomes something I am avoiding instead of something I am facing.
“He didn’t touch me.” I say.
Ezra’s expression does not change. “He didn’t need to.”
The bond tightens again, sharper this time, and I feel it settle low in my chest, a reminder that this is not just a conversation, it is a line being drawn whether I agree with it or not.
I shake my head slightly. “You’re reading too much into it.”
“No.” He says, calm and certain. “You are not reading enough into it.”
That hits harder than I expect. I push
