My pulse stutters, furious at my body for responding.
I force my tone back into something safer. “You keep scars like trophies.”
Lorenzo’s lips twitch. “They’re reminders.”
“Of what?” I challenge.
His eyes go cold. “That I don’t get to be naive.”
The words hit harder than they should. Because I remember him as naive. I remember him laughing in the boathouse like the world hadn’t taught him cruelty yet.
And now here he is, older, sharper, full of violence, carrying wounds that will haunt him for life.
I take a slow breath. “I didn’t know.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t start.”
“I didn’t know anything,” I whisper, the sentence heavy with everything I can’t say.
Lorenzo’s jaw flexes. “You didn’t know because you didn’t stay.”
Pain flashes in his eyes, too quick to be anything but real.
I flinch, and he sees it. Of course he does.
His hand lifts, fingers reaching toward my face, then stops. For a second, he just hovers there, knuckles inches from my cheek.
Then, slowly, his hand moves and brushes a loose strand of hair back behind my ear.
His touch is careful, like he’s handling something easily breakable.
Lorenzo’s thumb grazes my cheekbone once, a ghost of contact, and his eyes hold mine as my breath catches.
“Stop looking at me like I’m salvageable.”
I swallow hard. “Stop acting like you’re not.”
“You think you can fix me?”
“I think you’re more than this,” I whisper, then immediately want to take it back because it makes me feel vulnerable.
Lorenzo’s gaze drops to my lips again, and the air changes.
It reminds me of the moment right before a storm breaks. My pulse starts racing, and I can’t tell if it’s fear or something worse.
Lorenzo leans in a fraction, and my whole body braces. A weird feeling of electricity rushes through my body, and that terrifies me more than anything.
His breath warms my mouth. “Careful.”
I don’t move. I can’t. I’m frozen in place, and the room feels too small for both of us.
I expect him to cross the space . . .
Please cross it.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls back, not far, just enough to keep some semblance of control.
I blink, trying to breathe like a normal person. I should leave. I should run upstairs, lock my door, and pretend I didn’t almost melt when I thought he might kiss me.
