Page 178 of Evermore

He sees the madness in you.He’s afraid.

“Stop it,” I muttered.

“The voices?” he asked softly.

I nodded, too exhausted to maintain the pretense.

“What are they saying?”

“The usual. That I’m falling apart. That Thorne will leave again. That you’re afraid of me.” My voice caught on the last words.

Without hesitation, Archer stepped closer and took my hands in his. They were warm and callused, steady against my cold, trembling fingers. “Well, they’re wrong. About all of it.”

“Are they?”

“Absolutely.” He gave my hands a gentle squeeze. “Thorne would walk through fire to get back to you. And as for being afraid of you?” A small, crooked smile touched his lips. “The only thing about you that scares me is how terrifyingly good you are at cards.”

I laughed, unexpected and fragile. “That’s just skill.”

“It’s cheating, is what it is,” he countered, his smile widening. “But I’ve learned to live with the humiliation.”

The voices receded slightly, as if driven back by the simple warmth of his presence, the familiar cadence of our banter. These moments of clarity felt like gifts now, precious and all too fleeting.

“Dance with me,” Archer said suddenly.

“What?”

“Dance with me,” he repeated, already adjusting his grip on my hands, placing one on his shoulder while his other settled at my waist. “It’s better than standing here listening to whatever lies they’re feeding you.”

“There’s no music,” I pointed out.

“Since when has that stopped you? Come on, Fingers. Let me lead for once.”

“Everytime I let you lead, we do something reckless.”

“Exactly. I’m nothing if not predictable. And charming.”

“So humble,” I said, smiling up at him.

“Someone has to carry the torch, Fingers. It’s a tough job, but I’m willing to make the sacrifice.”

“So selfless. Do they give medals for that kind of heroism?”

“They should. I’ve written several strongly worded letters on the subject.” Archer’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “No response yet, but I remain optimistic.”

I snorted. “I didn’t know you could write.”

“I’m a man of many mysteries,” he said, dipping me suddenly. I grabbed his shoulders, heart lurching.

“And zero warning,” I muttered when he pulled me upright.

“Warnings ruin the fun.” He guided me through a series of steps that weren’t quite a waltz, but too coordinated to be random, though he barely missed my toes half the time. “Besides, you’re always ready for anything. It’s your most annoying quality.”

“One of many, I’m sure.”

“Oh no,” he said, his voice softening, making my chest tighten. “Your ability to alphabetize anything in under thirty seconds is much more annoying. Especially when you rearrange my bookshelf.”

“Your ‘system’ was putting the tall books next to short books so they’d ‘feel better about themselves.’”