Page 54 of Crossfire

But suddenly, that possibility evaporated like mist in the harsh light of day.

This was…humiliating. To have read it all so terribly wrong.

GRAYSON

What was I doing? Even if Ivy was innocent, she was part of our investigation into Vosch. Exploring any feelings for her was inappropriate, irresponsible, and reckless. Duty had to come first—the CIA was more than just my job; it was my lifeline.

After Dad’s murder, I had been set adrift, consumed by rage, grief threatening to usher me to either a coffin or a prison cell. The agency gave me purpose again when I thought I’d never find solid ground. They molded the shattered pieces of me into an agent, and my pain transformed into determination to protect others from my hell.

But Ivy…there was something about her that called to the tattered remains of the person I could be. The gentleness in her eyes somehow bypassed all my hard-earned defenses. When I was with her, I caught fleeting glimpses of a future not defined by vengeance and loss, but a version of myself I’d never considered before—free from darkness.

But that was ridiculous. First of all, I didn’t want anything to jeopardize my duty to the CIA, and second of all, there was no way you could develop…whatever this was so quickly for another human being.

Right?

This was…controllable. It had to be.

Losing myself in her radiance would be disastrous, not only jeopardizing the mission, but also shattering the fragile self-control I’d painstakingly pieced together. If I relinquished even a fraction of that hard-won restraint, the abyss of suffering I once barely escaped might swallow me whole again.

And speaking of suffering…there was another fear that had been a constant companion since my dad’s death. The prospect of letting someone in, of allowing myself to explore these feelings, to the point of being vulnerable, terrified me more than I cared to admit.

Truth be told, I had looked forward to seeing her today, and now, I looked forward to seeing her even more tomorrow. Hell, the thought of her leaving my sight gave me anxiety.

And not just because her life might be in danger.

I had kept people at arm’s length for a reason, but she was the first to challenge my carefully constructed isolation. The sudden urge to lower my defenses, to embrace the happiness I’d long denied myself, both tempted and terrified me.

I couldn’t go through that again. I couldn’t let myself fall for anyone, particularly someone who had a target on her back.

I couldn’t endure someone else being ripped away from me, just like my father had been.

IVY

“I’m sorry, Ivy. I…” He trailed off, apparently struggling to find the right words. He refused to look at me, instead fixating on the ground beneath our feet.

Rejection sliced through my chest.

And shortly behind it came anger.

Whendid he know he wasn’t into me? Because he seemed pretty damn into me yesterday, too.

No. Scratch that. He wasfor sureinto me yesterday—he’d said as much.

How dare he invite me out to coffee and make me feel like I was floating for the first time since my dad died, only to pop that balloon and send me crashing back to the ground?

Make no mistake. No one was responsible for my happiness except me, but I had allowed Pete to toy with my emotions for too long, and I certainly wasn’t going to hand those reins to someone else.

Welcome tofight or flight: emotion edition.

All I wanted to do was run away, but instead, I glared at him, unwilling to let him off that easy.

“You what?” I snapped, my voice sharp with hurt and anger.

Not that he didn’t deserve it. He just didn’t deserve to elicit any emotional reaction after making me feel so wanted, just to reject me.

Grayson’s eyes, flooded with turmoil, finally met mine, and in them was a silent plea for understanding that almost made me catch my breath.

Almost.

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