Rook and I both freeze. We stare at each other with wide shocked eyes. His are asking,Did that ungodly noise just come from you? While mine are saying,I don’t want to talk about it.
No, Sinclair! Just no. Not happening. I will not cry. I will rage and I will rant, but I will not weep. I have a god-awful ugly cry, and I amnotletting it out.
Despite my innerknock it offtalk to myself, my eyes grow blurry. I try not to blink so that nothing spills over. I need to get mad. Not sad. I need to fucking tear into him. I need to—
Hiccup!
Fuck.
Rook’s eyes widen as he sees my eyes completely overrun with tears. “Shit,” he curses. “Don’t cry, Sinclair. Please don’t cry.”
Why is it that when someone tells you not to cry, it just makes you cry harder?
There’s just no containing it now. As if Rook spoke the magic words to release the kraken—which is what I like to call my inner sobbing mess—I start to uncontrollably bawl. My face scrunches up like a used tissue, saltwater runs down my face like a leaky aquarium, and machine gun hiccups fire from my throat.
“You—hiccup—liar!” I cry, painful lumps getting stuck in my chest as bubbles of sobs wrench out of me.
Rook looks at me in terror, like he has no idea how to fix this. “Fuck. No, no, no, no, no,” he coos and soothes as he pulls me toward a dark gray sectional. He sits and pulls me onto his lap. My hot mess, sniveling self just goes with it because I’m too overwhelmed to function.
“Why are you crying?” he asks softly and that just makes me cry even harder.
“I’m so relieved and...so pissed. This is what you get!” I tell him, gesturing to my face and the red splotchy swollen mess that I know it’s turning into. “I didn’t know how I was going to do this, but it’syou…” I add, trailing off.
He wraps his arms around me, and my bawling is so out of control that I don’t fight it as he pulls my cheek to his chest to help comfort me. My body molds against his warmth and strength as he holds me. His hands rub up and down my back in a soothing gesture as I try to come to terms with everything.
“I’m not sure how to handle this, Sunrise. I was expecting you to be pissed. To attack me with a hidden shank or some shit. Not...this.”
“Oh, I’mfurious,” I assure him as I cling to him and weep. “And—hiccup—when my emotions get under control, I will absolutely be plotting for your death,” I tell him with complete seriousness.
He lets out a puff of breath. “I’m so sorry, Sunrise.”
“How the hell did you become a guard?” I demand, my uncontrollable tears and snot getting all over his shirt, but since my current state is his fault, I give no fucks.
“Easy,” he says with a shrug, his fingers inching up to toss my hair away from my face and run circles over my nape. “I paid the hiring officer off.”
“But I asked around about you,” I argue.
“More bribes.”
“But...the paperwork. I saw your hiring date and your reviews,” I cry, my voice more of a whine than I’d like.
I feel his shoulder lift in another shrug. “Forged to make it look like I worked there longer.”
“You—hiccup—motherfucker.”
He starts to chuckle, and I smack him on the stomach to shut him up. He isnotallowed to laugh right now. Rook lets out a little cough and wisely cuts off his amusement.
Pulling back, I look up at his face. I want to see his eyes when I ask my next question. “Why?”
He takes a breath and works his jaw for a moment, like this is the question he’s been dreading. “I intended to take you that first day. I was pissed that you kept evading my attempts at breaking you out. I was going to show you that you couldn’t win against me. That I could take you and there was nothing you could do about it. And then I was going to call your lounge out for breach of contract and let your debtors handle you.”
Wariness fills my gaze and a clamp of fear twists my gut. “But…?”
His eyes flicker over my face. “But...then the first time we met, you smacked me with a cafeteria tray.”
“Should’ve hit you harder,” I grumble.
The corner of his mouth hitches up. “It was an impressive hit.”
