BLURRY | SPRINA

Chapter Twenty-Two

Trina tore her gaze away from Spencer's, focusing instead on the rain hammering against the windows. The storm outside was relentless, the wind howling through the cracks of the old estate. It reminded her of how unpredictable life had become—how things could change in an instant, how control was just an illusion.

She let out a soft sigh. "Storm's getting worse."

Spencer followed her gaze. "Yeah...looks like you're stuck here for a while."

There was no teasing in his voice, just quiet acknowledgment. Neither of them moved to change the subject. The silence stretched between them, thick with things left unsaid.

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. "You know, when I was a kid, I used to think Wyndemere could survive any storm. That no matter how hard the wind blew or how loud the thunder got, the walls would hold." He shook his head. "I don't know why, but it made me feel safe."

Trina glanced around, the old mansion casting long shadows from the firelight. "And now?"

His lips twitched into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Now I know things don't fall apart all at once. Sometimes, it's a slow crack, something you don't notice until it's too late."

Trina's throat tightened. "Spencer..."

He turned back to her, and for a moment, there was nothing but quiet understanding between them.

Spencer's breath hitched at her gaze. His fingers flexed where they rested against the couch, and before she could think, she reached for his hand.

He didn't pull away.

The air between them shifted. The storm outside roared, but inside, everything stilled.

Spencer's gaze flickered to her lips, and Trina felt the pull—the same one she had spent so long trying to ignore.

"This is a bad idea," she murmured, even as she leaned in.

Spencer's voice was rough, barely above a whisper. "Probably."

And then his lips brushed against hers.

It wasn't hurried or desperate, but it wasn't hesitant either. It was familiar in a way that sent a shiver down her spine, like something inevitable finally catching up to them.

Trina sighed against his mouth, her fingers tightening around his as he deepened the kiss. Spencer's free hand moved to her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin like he needed to memorize the moment.

For a few stolen seconds, nothing else existed—just them, the rain, and the quiet truth neither of them could deny anymore.

Spencer's weight pressed her back into the couch—she didn't resist, her fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer.

She wanted him closer.

A gasp left her lips as he shifted, her legs resting against his hips as his arousal pressed against her, even through layers of fabric. The friction sent a sharp pang of awareness through her, and Spencer responded instantly, his fingers digging into her waist, his lips moving more insistently over hers.

The storm outside masked the faint creak of the front door opening.

Esme stepped inside, rain-soaked and irritated, shaking off her coat with a scowl. The launch ride back had been miserable, but the sight she walked into was far worse.

She hadn't planned to come straight to Spencer—maybe grab tea, warm up, then find him. But as she stepped into the hallway, she froze.

Through the dim glow of the firelight, she saw them.