CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
BRIDGES I’D CROSS FOR YOU
REED’S POV
There is something about standing on the edge of control. That strange, dangerous space where you’re tipsy but not drunk enough to numb reality. Where your reflexes are slowed just enough to hesitate, but your mind is painfully sharp. Too sharp. Sharp enough to notice every single thing that’s wrong.
Like the way Saul’s hand rests too possessively on Scarlet’s waist. Like how he leans in close, murmuring things only she can hear, his mouth brushing her cheek in a way that looks affectionate to outsiders but isn’t. Not when I can see her jaw tighten. Or that fake smile she has come to perfect, dances on the edge of her lips. Not when her shoulders stiffen instead of relaxing.
She doesn’t lean into him. She endures him and there is
