Four days? Is that really all it had been? It felt as if Stevie had been a part of my life for so much longer.
We’re having a party tonight.
She might’ve only been here a few days, but she was taking ownership of my weekly poker night? And why didn’t I hate the thought of her hosting with me?
Shaking my head, I stalked across the kitchen to the pantry, where I kept the broom.
We cleaned in companionable silence for a few minutes, but I could feel her gaze on me. As she scrubbed dishes, she would peek over at me. It took me a while to figure out she was looking at my leg.
This was why I rarely wore shorts in public.
“What?” I finally barked.
Stevie, however, didn’t seem fazed by my irritation. She focused her attention on the pan she was scrubbing. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
It had become a habit in only a few short days to use that phrase as an introduction to a potentially awkward discussion. I appreciated that she understood the way I thought well enough to give me warning. She understoodme.
“Ask,” I grunted. “I’ll let you know.”
That’s how I’d answered each previous time she’d begun a conversation with that question. It was her way oftelling me that she knew it was a delicate topic, and she wouldn’t be hurt if I didn’t—couldn’tanswer.
“Were you scared?” she asked quietly. “Down there in the dark, with all that pain around you?”
Taking a deep breath, I stacked my palms on top of the broom and frowned down at them. “In the mine, you mean?” I didn’t give her time to agree. “Yeah. But not for me.”
“No, of course not.” When I glanced at her in surprise, I saw a hint of a smile on her lips as she carefully placed the pan on the drying rack. “You were thinking about your friends, weren’t you?”
Of course I’d been thinking of them. “I couldfeeltheir pain. Their terror.” My gaze dropped back to my hands. “So many of them had… We’d worked and lived together for so long, I knew them. Knew their dreams. Knew they didn’t deserve to die because some hate-filled asshole was trying to make a point.”
“So youwerescared?” Stevie stilled, her hands in the soapy water, staring at me expectantly.
I rolled my shoulders, then lifted the broom again. “I was terrified I would lose them.”
I heard her little huff of what might have been laughter as she turned back to the dishes, but Ifelther satisfaction. Yeah, we were in the same room, so my senses were attuned to her…but it had taken years before I could feel the moods of those around me, and even then only when emotions were running high.
Huh.
I narrowed my eyes, considering this new development. Could I feel her emotions about other things? Two nights ago, when she was suffering through that nightmare, I thought I’d been reacting to the noises she made. But what if it had been herfeelings?
“Can I askyoua personal question?”
It wasn’t until I said the words that I realized what I was going to ask.
Stevie shrugged, her attention on whatever she was scrubbing in the sink. “Fair’s fair, I guess.”
“Has he hurt you before?”
The question had been quiet, but from the way Stevie stiffened, her gaze locked on the suds in the sink, she’d had no trouble hearing it.
And when she whispered, “Yes,” I knew she’d had no trouble understanding who I’d meant.
Thinking of those bruises on her inner arm, I tightened my hold on the broom until the wood creaked in protest. Because I couldfeelher shame.
“Why?” When I realized my question didn’t make sense, I took a deep breath. “I mean, Hendricks is clearly a low-life asshole who?—”
“I don’t think he does it on purpose.” Without looking at me, Stevie bent back over the sink, scrubbing with renewed vigor. “I think he just likes to feel strong, to beright, you know? And I bruise easily.”
No, I didn’tknow. “Are you making excuses for him?” I growled.
