Page 132 of The Lineman

I sighed, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes.

I didn’t have any answers.

I wasn’t sure I ever would.

But then—

A deep inhale, a slow shift of movement, and the scratch of sheets against skin.

I looked up just as Elliot’s eyes fluttered open.

For a second, he just blinked, his gaze unfocused, his brain probably still fighting its way to full awareness.

Then he turned his head, met my gaze—

And smiled.

A slow, lazy, half-awake smile that felt like the warmest wave in the ocean crashing into my chest and filling it with light and heat and—

Damn it.

Then his words finished destroying me.

“I love seeing you first thing when I wake up.”

My voice caught. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

He blinked a few more times before his lazy smile smoothed. “Any word on Rodriguez?”

His fingers stilled. His whole body went rigid. Then, slowly, he turned his head toward me, his expression unreadable.

I kept my voice steady, careful. “He was brought in overnight.”

Elliot exhaled, something flickering in his eyes—relief, maybe. Or maybe just the kind of exhaustion that came from waiting for bad news.

“He’s stable,” I added quickly, not wanting to drag it out. “His injuries were serious, but he’s not in any real danger. That’s all I know.”

Elliot nodded, exhaling again, but it wasn’t relief. Not really. It was something heavier. Something I couldn’t quite name.

I watched as his hand curled into the blanket, his jaw tightening.

“This is my fault.”

His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, but it hit me like a punch to the gut.

I frowned. “Elliot—”

“I got us hurt,” he muttered, staring at the blanket now, like he couldn’t even look at me.

I sat forward. “It was an accident.”

He let out a sharp, bitter breath. “Yeah. Sure.”

There was something in his voice. Something that made my stomach twist.

I wanted to ask. Wanted to push.

But I didn’t.

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