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Chapter 673:
June stared at the ceiling, listening to the city hum below, and wondered when, exactly, she had stopped wanting to be alone.
She woke to gray morning light and an empty sofa.
The blanket that had been draped over the back was now tucked around her shoulders. A glass of water sat on the coffee table, condensation beading on its sides. From the kitchen came the sound of coffee grinding.
June sat up, her neck protesting the angle, her body stiff from the unfamiliar surface. She ran her hands through her hair, trying to remember the last time she had slept through the night without waking in a panic.
“You’re awake p>
Easton stood in the kitchen doorway, two mugs in his hands. He was dressed in running clothes—black compression pants, a gray thermal shirt that clung to his shoulders. His hair was damp at the temples, suggesting he had already been out and back.
“You run,” she said, stupidly.
𝗬о𝘂𝘳 n𝘦𝘅t 𝘧𝘢𝗏𝗼𝗋i𝗍e 𝗿𝖾ad 𝘪𝗌 𝗈𝗇.сo𝗆
“Every morning.” He crossed to her, extending one mug. “Five miles. Clears my head p>
She took the coffee. It was exactly how she liked it—black, strong, hot enough to burn. She looked up at him, searching for traces of the broken man from the night before. His face was composed, professional, the mask firmly back in place.
Only his eyes gave him away. They were softer than they should have been, moving over her face like he was memorizing features he already knew by heart.
“You slept,” he said. Not a question.
“Some p>
“More than you have in weeks, I would guess.” He settled onto the opposite end of the sofa, maintaining a distance that felt deliberate, respectful. “I have a meeting at nine. But I can cancel p>
“No.” The word came out too fast, too sharp. She softened it with a sip of coffee. “I have work. The Gen-2 trials. We’re at a critical phase p>
Easton nodded, but his expression flickered—disappointment, quickly suppressed. “Of course. I’ll have my driver take you to Apex Bio p>
“That’s not p>
“Non-negotiable.” He smiled, but it was the courtroom smile, the one that brooked no argument. “You’re not taking the subway. Not after last week. Not while Beasley is still p>
He stopped himself. His jaw tightened.
“Still what?” June asked.
“Still breathing,” Easton finished, and the softness in his eyes hardened into something that made her stomach clench. “Still capable of making stupid decisions p>
June set her coffee down and stood, moving toward the windows, needing space to process the shift in his tone. The city sprawled below, indifferent and magnificent. She had lived in New York for years but had never felt at home here—had never felt at home anywhere, except perhaps in laboratories, in the clean precision of data and results.
“Easton p>
“Yes p>
She turned. He was watching her, his coffee forgotten in his hands, his whole body angled toward her like a plant toward light.
“Last night. What you said about not wanting to lose anyone else.” She forced herself to hold his gaze. “I need you to understand something. I’m not—I’m not capable of what you’re asking. Not yet. Maybe not ever p>