Page 117 of Can't Stop Watching

"I've never been good at following doctors' orders."

God, what am I doing? My feet start moving toward him anyway.

I approach Dane slowly, like I'm the one who might spook him. He holds so still it's almost unnatural, a predator trying to appear harmless. His body language screams that he's terrified I'll turn and sprint the other way.

Ironic. I feel the exact opposite pull. Even knowing everything, even after all the lies, my body still wants to move toward him, not away. My new therapist will have a field day with this.

"So, you checked yourself out of the hospital." I stop a few feet from him, close enough to see the fresh scar along his jawline. Hair will never grow there again. "That seems smart. Three bullet wounds, major surgery, perfect time for a little DIY healthcare."

"The food was terrible," he says, his voice rough. "And the nurses kept waking me up to ask if I was sleeping okay."

Despite everything, I feel my lips twitch. "Yeah, that sounds brutal. Almost as bad as, I don't know, getting shot multiple times?"

"Almost." His eyes don't leave my face. I can feel him cataloging every detail, every change since he last saw me.

The rain picks up some, but I can't seem to move. Dane shifts his weight, wincing slightly.

"Look, I wanted to thank you," he says. "For being there at the hospital. For staying with me."

I cross my arms over my chest. "I was just making sure you didn't die before I could properly tell you off."

"Fair enough." His mouth quirks up in that half-smile that still makes my stomach do stupid things. "The nurses kept asking where my beautiful girlfriend went after you disappeared. Had to explain you weren't actually my girlfriend."

Beautiful girlfriend. The words echo in my empty chest, reminding me of what I thought we might become before everything went to hell.

"I figured they'd be too busy dealing with your charming personality to notice I was gone."

"They were devastated. I think Betty in particular was shipping us." He looks down at the wet pavement. "I don't blame you for not coming back, Lila."

A little rain trickles down my collar, uncomfortably cold against my skin. I should tell him to go fuck himself. I should walk away and never look back. Instead, I blurt out, "So is that why you're here… to thank me."

Dane's shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep breath. He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up. It makes him look younger, more vulnerable.

"I'm not here just to thank you," he says, his voice stronger now. "I'm here because I've spent three weeks trying to figure out how to exist in a world where you're not speaking to me."

Oh. My heart does a weird little stutter-step that I refuse to acknowledge.

"I sold my business," he continues. "Transferred all my active cases to colleagues. I'm done being a PI.

"What?" I blink rainwater from my eyelashes. "But that's your job, your whole life."

"That's the thing, Lila. It wasn't a life. It was just... existing. I thought catching the bad guys would give everything meaning, but it never did."

"So what, you're gonna become an accountant?" I quip, trying to break the intensity of his gaze. I fail.

"I don't know what I'm going to be." A raindrop slides down his scar. "But I know who I want to be with."

Shit. SHIT.Why is my heart beating so fast?

"Dane—"

"You make me want things I never thought I could have," he interrupts, finally taking one step closer. "Normal things. Coffee in the morning. Arguments about what movie to watch. A fucking vacation somewhere with sand."

My throat tightens. "I can't be your rehab program for humanity. Nor you mine."

"You're not." He shakes his head. "You're the person who showed me I can be happy. That I can make someone else happy. And I know I fucked up—monumentally fucked up—but I'm in love with you, Lila."

The words hang between us in the rain.