The sound of Leya's footsteps had echoed down the corridor for a seriously good long period since she'd gone.

Neither of them stirred.

Not Nathaniel.

Not Harrison.

Not yet.

Between them was space—it was charged, a fuse waiting for a spark to light.

Nathaniel was gritted, eyes on the open door, jaw so tight the muscle was shaking. Fists white on his hips, fists he didn't even realize he'd made.

"She's not the same," he whispered.

Harrison spoke not a word.

Because he ...