His elbows rest on his thighs, hands clasped once in front of him.His eyes flash to the door every few seconds, to the windows, to the shadows shifting outside.Every time thunder rolls, his shoulders get tenser.
“Riot?”I whisper.
He doesn’t look at me at first.“Yeah?”
“Are you scared?”
That pulls his attention.His eyes meet mine, dark and sharp and full of something I don’t expect.
“Yes.”
The honesty stuns me.
“You are?”
“Only of one thing,” he murmurs with his eyes locked to mine.“Losin’ you again.”
Something inside me snaps at that.Not in a painful way in a way that feels like a rope pulling tight between two anchor points.
“Ledger,” I whisper again.
He blinks, expression tightening.“You don’t gotta say anything.I didn’t say it to get a reaction from you.”
“What if I have one anyway?”
His jaw flexes.
I shift a little closer not touching more than we already are, but wanting to.Wanting it too much.
“I don’t remember everything,” I admit softly.“But I feel connected to you.Like my heart remembers even if my mind doesn’t.”
His breath catches.
Lightning flashes outside, illuminating his face long enough for me to see raw emotion flicker through it awe, pain, hunger, something impossibly deep.
The power goes out with a snap.
The space plunges into darkness except for the faint glow of emergency lights.
Ledger stands immediately.“Backup generator should kick in.”
But it doesn’t.
Nothing hums.
No power flickers back on.
He curses under his breath.“Of course.”
“Is this dangerous?”I ask, heart stumbling.
“No,” he says instantly.“We’re safe.Just dark.”
Except his voice is too tight, his stance too rigid.
He’s not worried about the dark.
He’s worried about what might use the dark.
