Page 26

Study them.

Memorize them.

The thought makes me dizzy.

Cooper steps in closer, angling for a better shot. I catch the way his fingers tighten around the camera, the way his breath hitches ever so slightly before he recovers.

He’s affected too.

I should put a stop to this.

Get up. Walk away.

Instead, I let him take the picture.

“That’s enough,” I say, a hint of judgment in my voice.

Cooper extends a hand to help me up. I stare at it a moment too long in hesitation. He shakes it at me.

“It’s just a hand, Robin,” he says.

“Dr. Richardson to you.” I take his hand. The feeling of his warm, large hand around mine sends a shiver up my spine.

Cooper pulls me up to my feet. Our eyes meet for a lingering moment before I quickly look away.

“I should make myself useful,” I say, clearing my throat and dropping his hand.

I feel Cooper’s eyes following me. I try to ignore it, but the weight of his gaze is palpable.

I begin collecting the various dog toys strewn about. My hands fumble with a knotted rope toy as I am painfully aware of him stepping closer. He pauses right behind me, and I go still, heartbeat thumping in my ears. Gently, he reaches around either side of me and picks up two stray tennis balls, dropping them into the bin. His arm grazes mine, warmth radiating between us.

I close my eyes, biting my lip. Our proximity is electric, tension hanging thick in the air. Cooper’s chest nearly presses into my back as he lingers. I can smell his woodsy cologne, feel his steady breath against my neck.

“Robin…” he murmurs, voice low.

My name on his lips sends a spark down my spine. I turn my head slightly, eyes opening to meet his. They’re dark, pupils dilated. My lips part as I let out a shaky breath. Cooper’s eyes flicker down to my mouth.

Slowly, he starts to lean in. My heart pounds against my ribs. I can’t pull away. I tilt my chin up, eyes falling shut…

The spell shatters at the sound of a glass breaking. I startle and jerk away. Locating the culprit, I see Lotte near tears next to a pile of broken glass on the patio. Dallas is beside her hopelessly telling her it’s okay. My pulse slows.

“Excuse me, I need to go help,” I tell Cooper while pushing past him.

Thirteen

Present

Ifold my hands in my lap and watch as Tessa shifts uncomfortably in the chair across from me. She doesn’t look at me, not directly. Instead, her gaze drifts toward the window, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the armrest. A defense mechanism. A need to escape, even when there’s nowhere to run.

“You don’t have to talk if you’re not ready,” I say gently. I let the silence settle between us, nonthreatening and open-ended.

Tessa lets out a slow breath, then a sharp laugh—bitter, mirthless. “That’s the thing. I don’t even know what I’d say.”

I tilt my head. “Start anywhere.”

She clenches her jaw, her fingers tightening against the armrest. “I don’t know what’s real anymore. That’s the worst part. People tell me he was a monster. That I was a prisoner. But it doesn’t feel that way. And I hate myself for it.”

There it is. The conflict knotted inside her, wound so tight it’s strangling her from the inside. I lean forward slightly. “You’re talking about Daniel.”