Sheila’s POV
He’s still standing close enough that I can feel the heat coming off him. The space between us feels too small, too charged.
I should say something. Anything. But my mouth won’t move.
Brendan watches me for a second, then reaches out and takes my hand. His touch is firm, steady, like he’s testing how far I’ll let him go. My breath catches, but I don’t pull away.
“See?” he murmurs. “You don’t hate me as much as you keep saying.”
“I never said I didn’t hate you,” I manage to whisper.
He smirks. “Yeah, you did. Every time you let me touch you.”
That hits too deep. My chest tightens. “You think everything’s about what you can make me feel.”
He tilts his head, studying me. “No. I think you’re scared of how much you already feel.”
I pull my hand back and turn away, but he m
