The kiss happened twenty-seven hours after the poisoning incident.

Which honestly felt rude.

Evie blamed sleep deprivation.

Cassian blamed absolutely nothing since he’d spent the entire day avoiding her like physical proximity qualified as a federal crime.

By midnight she was ready to throw a wrench at his head.

The safehouse kitchen sat quiet except for rain against the windows and the low hum of the refrigerator.

Evie stood barefoot near the counter eating cold cereal directly from the box while glaring at the hallway like it personally offended her bloodline.

Kane wandered in halfway through.

He stopped immediately.

“…You look homicidal.”

Evie shoved another spoonful into her mouth.

“He’s avoiding me.”

Kane opened the fridge carefully.

“Yeah.”

“You say that like it’s normal.”

“I watched him stare at a closed door for four minutes earlier before walking away again.”

“That is somehow worse.”

Kane grabbed orange juice.

“He’s having a crisis.”

“He’s BEEN having a crisis.”

“Yeah, but now it’s romantic.”

Evie threw a cereal piece at him.

Kane dodged easily.

“Look,” he continued, “the boss spent like ten years emotionally dead. You touched his face and now he’s acting like a Victorian man seeing ankle.”

Evie rubbed one hand over her eyes.

“I hate everyone in this building.”

“Fair.”

Footsteps sounded in the hallway.

Both of them looked up automatically.

Cassian.

Black shirt.

Dark jeans.

Still pale from the poison.

His eyes landed on Evie first.

Then immediately shifted toward the coffee machine.

Kane looked between both of them once.

Then picked up his juice.

“Nope,” he said quietly. “I’m leaving before this becomes psychologically expensive.”

He disappeared upstairs instantly.

Coward.

Cassian reached for a mug from the cabinet.

Evie watched him in silence for three whole seconds.

Honestly impressive restraint.

Then:

“So are we gonna talk about this?”

Cassian kept his attention on the coffee machine.

“There’s nothing to discuss.”

Evie stared at him.

“You almost died in my lap.”

Cassian picked up the kettle.

“That’s dramatic.”

“You grabbed my wrist and begged me not to leave.”

The kettle stopped halfway toward the sink.

Tiny pause.

There it was.

Evie stepped away from the counter.

“You don’t get to pretend that didn’t happen.”

Cassian finally looked at her.

Rain rolled slowly down the kitchen windows behind him while dim under-cabinet lights cut warm gold across the counter between them.

“I was poisoned.”

“Oh, excellent. Love blaming emotional vulnerability on toxins.”

Cassian set the kettle down harder than necessary.

“You should go to sleep.”

“No.”

“Evie.”

“No, see, that thing right there?” She pointed directly at him. “You keep doing that.”

“Doing what.”

“Trying to shut conversations down the second they stop being tactical.”

The kitchen stayed quiet except for rain and the low refrigerator hum.

Cassian looked exhausted already.

Not physically.

The other kind.

Evie crossed her arms tightly.

“You spend weeks memorizing what coffee I drink, buying replacement tools, sitting motionless for four hours so I can sleep on your shoulder—”

“That wasn’t difficult.”

“That is literally making my point for me.”

Cassian looked toward the windows briefly.

Evie threw both hands upward immediately.

“There! The window thing!”

His jaw tightened slightly.

“You notice too much.”

“You notice EVERYTHING.”

The words landed harder than she intended.

Neither of them spoke for a second afterward.

Rainwater slid slowly down the glass behind him.

Evie rubbed one hand over her face.

“I don’t know what you want from me anymore.”

Cassian stared at her quietly.

Then:

“I want you alive.”

The answer came instantly.

No hesitation.

That shut her up.

Cassian looked away right after saying it.

Too late now.

Evie stepped closer slowly.

The kitchen suddenly felt smaller.

Warmer too.

“You know what normal people say instead of that?”

Cassian stayed still.

“They say things like ‘I missed you.’”

His eyes shifted back toward hers.

Rain tapped steadily against the windows while the safehouse stayed silent upstairs.

Nobody interrupting this time.

Nobody saving them from it.

Evie stopped directly in front of him.

Close enough now to see the exhaustion beneath his eyes from the last two days.

“You’re scared of this,” she said quietly.

Cassian’s hand tightened slightly around the edge of the counter.

“Yes.”

Honest again.

That almost hurt worse.

Evie swallowed once.

“Okay.”

Cassian looked confused by the answer.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” Her voice softened slightly. “You being scared doesn’t magically make me stop caring about you.”

The silence stretched afterward.

Not empty.

Just full.

Cassian looked down toward her mouth briefly before catching himself.

Evie noticed.

Unfortunately.

“You know,” she murmured, “you really gotta stop doing that.”

“What.”

“The staring thing.”

Cassian’s voice dropped lower.

“You stare too.”

Evie opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

Cassian stepped closer.

Not much.

Still enough to press the tension between them into something almost physical.

Evie’s back touched the counter edge lightly.

Neither of them moved away.

Rain rolled softly across the windows.

The kitchen lights hummed overhead.

Somewhere upstairs, pipes knocked quietly inside the walls.

Cassian lifted one hand slowly like he expected her to stop him halfway.

His fingers brushed lightly against the side of her jaw.

Warm.

Careful.

Evie stopped breathing for a second.

Not from surprise.

From how gentle he looked doing it.

Cassian stared at her like the touch itself made him uneasy.

Like he still expected disaster to arrive attached to wanting something this badly.

Evie’s hand caught the front of his shirt before she fully realized she moved.

Then she kissed him.

Messy immediately.

Not graceful.

Not cinematic.

More like two people crashing into the truth after months of trying very hard not to.

Cassian made a rough sound against her mouth that almost didn’t sound human.

His hand slid behind her neck instantly.

Then stopped.

Like instinct and restraint collided halfway through the movement.

Evie kissed him harder out of pure frustration.

“You are unbelievably difficult,” she breathed against his mouth.

Cassian kissed her again before answering.

This one rougher.

Hungrier.

Weeks of tension finally snapping loose all at once.

The coffee mug near the sink tipped sideways when Evie grabbed his shirt tighter.

Neither of them noticed.

Cassian’s forehead rested briefly against hers afterward while both of them tried unsuccessfully to breathe normally.

Rain hammered harder against the windows now.

The kitchen suddenly felt too quiet after the kiss stopped.

Cassian looked at her.

Actually looked.

And something about that seemed to scare him more than the kiss itself.

Evie saw the moment happen.

The retreat.

The panic.

The walls rebuilding behind his eyes.

“Cassian—”

He stepped back immediately.

Too fast.

Like staying another second would break something he couldn’t repair.

Evie stared at him.

“You’re leaving?”

Cassian ran one hand once through damp dark hair.

Couldn’t seem to look directly at her anymore.

“I need air.”

“That is SUCH a cliché response.”

No answer.

He grabbed his jacket from the chair near the door instead.

Evie watched him move through the kitchen like he’d already decided distance would fix this somehow.

Rain blew cold through the doorway when he opened it.

Cassian stopped briefly before stepping outside.

Didn’t turn around.

Then he disappeared into the storm.

Evie stood alone in the kitchen listening to rain fill the silence he left behind.