I was about to kiss her when she took a couple of big steps away, putting distance between us. “This wasn’t part of my plan.”

“Never planned on falling in love with someone so smart. So caring. So effortlessly selfless but stubbornly independent. Yet here we are. ’Cause plans change, baby.”

“In love? You barely know me.”

“Know everything I need to.”

“You don’t,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around her stomach. Withdrawing. Retreating.

She’s not over him.

I could be wrong. I had no fuckin’ clue. But I pulled back anyway and gave her the space she needed.

It killed me to do it, but it wasn’t about me. It wasn’t even just about Mac. I had Squish to think about. I couldn’t stress Mac out and risk something happening.

“There’s no rush, Mac,” I said. “We got time for you to think about it. But now you know where I stand. Whenever you’re ready.”

Pressing a light kiss to her lips, I went back to my place.

And hoped like hell I hadn’t just fucked up.

* * *

Hitting accept on my cell, I clicked the button for the speakerphone. “What’s up?”

“Where are you?” Judge asked.

I tensed. “My place, why?”

“Sounds weird.”

“I’m in the bathroom.”

“Hell, don’t answer my calls when you’re taking a shit.”

I chuckled. “I’m not. I just got outta the shower.”

“That’s not any better.”

I wrapped a towel around my waist. “Why’re you calling?”

“Took some time and finesse, but Haze found out a suspected predator in Beverly had an accident a couple nights ago. They think he fell down the stairs. He’s under arrest, but not a flight risk ’cause he’s currently in a coma.”

A knot between my shoulders loosened.

I opened the door and started for my room. “Just a coma? Damn. I was really hoping I killed the fucker.”

Someone gasped.

My gaze shot to the living room where Mac stood, the key I’d given her in one hand and her cell in the other.

I hadn’t expected to see her till later that night. Otherwise, I sure as shit wouldn’t have been walking around openly talking about my attempted homicide.

I didn’t say anything to Judge. Just ended the call and tossed my phone to the side as I moved to block the front door. “Mac, I can explain.”

“I forgot my phone,” she whispered, giving it a little shake.

I’d told her I could explain, and I could. But it wasn’t a good explanation, and I didn’t know where to start.

We just stared at each other. Neither of us moving. Blinking. Breathing.

I stayed tense, waiting for her to run. Ready to chase.

Instead, she asked, “You put a man in a coma?”

I lifted my chin.

“Thursday?”

Another chin lift.

“Your knuckles. You lied.”