Echoes of Unrequited Love

Chapter 70

| didn’t expect Hogan to swing by with meds in the dead of night. Caught me off guard, and | felt a tad guilty, too. But then | thought, our slim thread of a connection wasn’t enough for Mr. Zade to go out of his way like this.

| figured it must be something to do with the couple’s space on the site.

Looking at the code | was hammering out, | got this weird itch in my chest.

| muttered a thanks, deliberately sidestepping that awkward moment, and said all polite—like, “Still knee-deep in code, not gonna walk you out, Mr. Zade.”

Basically showing him the door.

Hogan blinked, rooted to the spot, his gaze sliding over the hand warmer | was clutching, and he asked, “No heating?” Heating? He thought this was the Rainbow Capital or something.

In an old office block like ours, we were lucky to have central air, let alone heating.

| forced a smile, “Not cold.”

Hogan didn’t bite, surprisingly pulled up a chair, and sat down.

| guessed he wasn’t leaving tonight without some answers, so | flipped to the couple’s space page and asked, “See anything that needs tweaking, Mr. Zade?”

Hogan scooted closer in his chair, took a quick peek, and said, “Not punchy enough.”

+

Heard that line before.

| played it cool, “Give me ten minutes.”

After Hogan grunted an okay, his gaze drifted to the bookshelf, and the next thing, his long, even fingers were touching one of the books.

| heard him ask, “Since when did you get hooked on whodunits?” | glanced over and realized he was holding the detective novel Darren had given me. I'd

thumbed through it a few times when | was stressed out, but had no clue how Hogan pegged me as a mystery buff. | fobbed him off, “Good content, colorful plot.”

“Huh.” Conversation was going nowhere, so | zipped it and focused on fixing the page.

The night was deep, and we both fell silent. In the wide office, all you could hear was the click—clack of keyboard keys and the occasional page turn.

It was lively yet eerie.

09:54.

Finally, task done, | asked, “How about now, Mr. Zade?”

“Let me see.

Hogan wheeled his chair over, suddenly closing the gap between us.

Just as | clicked the mouse, there was a “pop,” and the overhead light went out, the monitor screen following suit into darkness. | sighed, “Probably a blown fuse, I'll check.”

| told Hogan to scoot over.

As | got up, my palm accidentally covered the back of his hand.

| quickly pulled back, but in a flash, Hogan had grasped my left hand.

His long fingers covered mine, fitting together seamlessly.

His palm was burning up against my icy fingertips, making my cheeks flush and my breathing quicken.

In the dim light, | saw the bob of his throat.

We were way too close.

| awkwardly tried to pull back, but in a moment, Hogan had yanked me into his embrace.

He held my hands tight, tucking them expertly at his waist. Through the thin fabric, | could faintly trace the firm lines of his abs. Awhiff of soap mixed with an unexpected hint of aggression filled my nostrils.

| blurted out Hogan’s name in panic.

With a hint of warning.

“Your hands are too cold,” his voice raspy, as if stating the most ordinary fact, “Warm them up.” “No need.”

Hogan ignored me, not only did he not let go, but he held me even tighter, “Xaviera, don’t move.” My heart skipped a beat, a tingling sensation shot from my brain to my spine, sapping all my strength to resist.

Suddenly, | remembered those two years in that cold, harsh apartment. Hogan tenderly holding my little feet, carefully tucking them into his embrace, saying he’d use his body warmth to chase away the long winter nights for me.