I set the tray down between us and slid the food toward her side of the booth.
“Eat.”
She hesitated for a second—of course she did—then her hands lifted off the table and moved, slow, deliberate motions I actually recognised from the half-assed signing lesson I did with Jennie.
Thank you.
I blinked. “Thank you?”
She nodded, lips curving a little more this time.
Something in my chest pulled tight.
Me sayingpleaseto Jennie to teach me sign, humiliating myself because I—Joshua Lockhart—never fucking beg.
And here I was, willing to say please again and again if it meant I could understand her a bit more.
I looked down at the table, forcing my jaw to unclench before I said something I shouldn’t.
“Eat,” I repeated, quieter this time.
She did.
And for the first time, the silence between us didn’t feel like punishment.
Halfway through the meal, she stopped eating, wiped her fingers on a napkin, and pulled out her phone. I figured she was checking something, text, email, whatever, but then she slid it across the table toward me.
On the screen, she typed:When’s the game?
My eyebrows lifted.
She started a conversation.
With me.
“Four,” I said, leaning back. “So we’ll arrive back at Silverwood after sundown.”
She nodded, thumb tapping a note into her phone like it was a reminder. Then she looked up again, expectant, like she was waiting for me to say more.
I huffed out a small breath. “The coaches think I scare you,” I muttered, tone flat, but teasing.
For a second, I wondered if I’d gone too far, if she’d freeze again, retreat behind that wall she always hides behind.
But she just shrugged.
Didn’t deny it, didn’t overthink it, just kept eating. And God help me, Inearlysmiled.
The rest of the team could worship me, fear me, whatever. But her? She just looked at me like I was somewhat… normal.
And I’d take that over anything.
After eating and sitting in silence, we stepped outside; the air was colder than before. The bus was still parked across the street, engine humming while the others loaded back in.
She walked beside me for a few seconds, quiet as always, then suddenly turned—quick, small steps—toward the little store next to the diner.
I frowned. “Where the hell—”
She pushed the door open, disappearing inside.
