Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
'Why isn't he saying anything anymore?'
A bead of sweat slid down Eli's forehead.
Which made absolutely no sense. The condo was freezing, and all he had on was a glittery pink sweater—one he already hated wearing on a good day. Now it just felt like a personal insult on top of everything else.
The moment they'd stepped inside, Caelen had taken a seat on one couch.
Eli sat on the one opposite him.
Adjacent.
Close enough to feel each other's presence. Far enough to make the silence unbearable.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
'Should I just start explaining?'
Eli's fingers tapped restlessly against his thigh, each movement betraying the nerves he was trying so hard to bury.
'No. There's a reason he's quiet.'
There was always a reason with Caelen.
This was mental warfare.
Eli had to keep reminding himself of that. Caelen never acted without intent, never left a move uncalculated.
Which meant—
Eli couldn't either.
