“Wait!” I yelled. Too loud.
“No!” she shouted.
She was halfway to the door. I’d used up the last of her pity.
“Winona!” I sprang out of the pool and sprinted for her, catching her just as she reached the door. I wrapped my hand around hers.
Winona spun on me, her expression livid. “Let go of me, you piece of?—”
I complied, releasing her hand. But I took a step towardher, so she had to tilt her face up to meet my eyes. Her mouth was open, presumably to continue cussing me out.
“Finish that sentence,” I said. It wasn’t a threat. I wanted to hear it. Like the truth would get all the ugliness into the light.
But she hesitated. She must have seen whatever it was in my eyes that was so desperate for her to stay. The part that was broken inside. It was the only reason.
She brought a trembling hand to her eyes, pressing them closed. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you believe it.”
“Don’t you?”
She laughed, but in an exasperated way. “I don’t know you, Mr. Harr?—”
“Mitchell. I liked it when you called me that.”
She opened her eyes, and something came loose inside of me; a vital piece of machinery slipping out of place.
“Please stay, Winona,” I said. “Not to fix the sink. Just to… stay.”
Her mouth fell open, then shut again. Then she pressed her fingers to her temples like she was communicating with herself. Negotiating with herself, maybe, like her inner, rational voice was screaming at her to run, but that soft, curious part of her wanted to stay.
She dropped her hands, still looking pained. And cold. I needed to get her warm. But before I could speak, she said, “What are you doing in Quince Valley, Mitchell?”
I opened my mouth, but she stabbed a finger into my chest.
“And don’t youdarebullshit me. The truth or I’m gone, even if you drop to your fucking knees and beg me to stay.”
That gave me an image that sent heat flaring through me. I quickly scrubbed it away lest she see it onmy face.
“I can’t bullshit you,” I said. “You can see a lie a mile away, can’t you, Winona?”
Those stormy blue eyes told me she’d had to suss out lies before.Big ones.
“Yes, b’y.”
I ran a hand over my neck, unsure what to say if I couldn’t lie. Finally, I said, “Hiding.” That was the truth, wasn’t it?
“Did you commit a crime?”
“Not that I know of. I’m trying to finish writing a novel.”
She blinked. “Why?”
I was surprised by that question. Most people immediately wanted to know what the book was about. “Because my father thinks I can’t.” I laughed, shocked that those words came out. “Fuck, Firecracker,” I said under my breath. “Can't seem to keep my mouth shut around you."
She ignored that. “It’s going well, I see?”
