Then I ask quietly, “Why can’t we just go home?”
Her brows tighten. A small movement, but a tell, nonetheless, and certainly big enough for me to notice.
She looks away, wiping her hands on a towel that’s already clean. “It’s not that simple,”.
“Why?” I push, taking a step toward her.
She grabs a bowl from the cabinet with more force than necessary. “Because it isn’t.”
I wait for her to say more, but she doesn’t give me anything else.
I file the silence away. Add it to the growing list of secrets we pretend aren’t secrets.
Another thing to unpack later.
For now, I’ll concentrate on getting my work done, because despite what my mother says, I have no intention of staying away from Victoria.
An hour later,I do what I always do when I can’t get her out of my head. Which is every night. Every hour. Every damn breath.
I find the worn copy ofWuthering Heightsthat she’s been reading in the library, and slide a note and pebble inside.
Same time.
I don’t sign it. There’s no need. She knows it’s from me.
The rest of the day, I keep my head down.
Ever since I walked past Mr. Danforth’s office and heard him call me a fucking idiot, and then saying my mother wasn’t goodenough to work in his house, I’ve needed a distraction so I don’t kill the man.
I fix a busted pipe under the main sink. Oil a squeaky hinge in the foyer closet.
Reattach a loose banister rail that’s been threatening to send someone to the ER . . .
I pretend everything is normal.
Then I see her, and two things happen after that…
One: I’m no longer thinking of gutting Victoria’s father.
Two: She’s the only thought I’m now able to have.
I pretend I’m not thinking of her smile, her mouth, her laugh that hits me underneath my ribs like a fishhook.
But mentally, I’m like a ticking time bomb. Waiting.
And by midnight, I’m already at the meet spot.
She steps into the hallway with that same spark in her eyes, and it makes my pulse accelerate.
She’s the match, and I’m the gasoline.
“Come on,” she whispers, grabbing my hand before I can say a word. “I want to show you something.”
“Can you give me a hint?” I tease, letting her pull me along. “Or are we playing hide-and-seek?”
She squeezes my fingers, smirking over her shoulder. “It’s better if I show you.”
Her steps are faster than normal, which excites me.
