“I was.”
“And when you got separated from your mom, protocol meant your mom had to destroy her phone.”
Her jaw trembled, and she locked it tight. “Yes.”
Her mom destroyed her phone—and any way for Opal to contact her.
Sinner’s gaze held hers, unrelenting. “What’s the password?”
“What?” The word barely made it past her throat.
“You know. The password you’d give your mom when you meet at the rally point —to let her know your cover’s still intact.”
Oh god. This man knew so much. Too much. More than anybody ever before. Not even Smith knew she was in the Witness Protection program for most of her life.
How the hell did Sinner?
The tight knots loosened inside her, and the words slipped free before she could stop them.
“Orange sherbet.”
His smile was tender and understanding. “The program likes you to choose harmless words no one would suspect. Like pink lemonade.”
She sniffled, tears threatening again. “I like pink lemonade.”
He raised a hand to cup her cheek. Her whole body wanted to lean into him, to let him carry some of the burden that never left her.
He curled around her. “Where was the meetup spot?”
Her gaze drifted from his chiseled jaw to settle on his chest as memories stretched in her mind. Of the short trip to the spot from Quantico, where she ended up after she and her mom were separated.
Opal visited the location too many times, and always walked away in a fog of disappointment and despair.
She swallowed. “The place changed a lot. First it was a corner diner. A quaint old place that Mom took me for a specialtreat once in a while. I always ordered the orange sherbet cone.” Her voice wavered, and she forced back her emotions.
After battling a lump in her throat, she went on, “After that, it was a fried chicken place. I waitedhoursfor my mom. She never showed.”
Her eyes stung with tears she refused to let fall. Not now—not after all these years. “Then it was a tea shop. They had special teas. I got a cup of blueberry lavender, but I barely tasted it because all I wanted was Mom and orange sh-sherbet.”
She gulped, and Sinner knew enough about her not to react. He didn’t offer soft words or stroke his thumb over her cheek, even if he wanted to badly.
“The last time I went to the spot, the building was empty, the business gone. I…never went back.” Her throat constricted until she felt she might strangle. “It doesn’t matter.”
Sinner didn’t offer her empty reassurances—didn’t say it did matter, or that she was fine, or that her mother had found peace.
Opal tipped her head back to meet his gaze. She liked his eyes. His smirks and his rare smiles. She liked the way he smelled, way more than she probably should.
But more than all of that…she was grateful that he knew when silence was better than words.
For that, Opal liked him most of all.
EIGHT
Sinner searched Opal’s face for long heartbeats. What she’d shared with him didn’t shock him—but he was shocked she told him anything at all.
Neither of them moved, their stares caught in that tight hold they hadn’t been able to break from the first time they saw each other.
A flicker crossed her face, and he saw the moment she made up her mind.
