“You thought I was going to jump?” she asks, her gaze resting on my lips for a moment. I give her a small smile but it doesn’t feel very assuring. “I saw you with that shard of glass the other day and I…I guess I’m thinking of the way we met.” “When I punched you in the face.” “When I rescued you.” She looks away with a wry smile. “You did not rescue me.” “You were drowning,” I remind her, my grip tightening around her waist, one of my hands splayed at her back and keeping her pressed against me, as if letting her go now would result in letting her go forever. “You were drowning and you
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