“I’m trying to think.”
“You’ve been thinking for three days, and where has that gotten us?”
“No questions, she said.” He thumps his head against the wall. Again.
I zip up my pants and point a finger at him. “Punk, I swear?—”
“In case you ever wanted to know, Senya is the reason I ask so many questions.” He drops a hand, dangling the note between his legs. “She taught me the importance of asking questions.She never believed in taking the words of others at face value. Somehow, somewhere along the way, she stopped asking questions. Look where that got her. Now, she’s demanding that I let her die. Look me in the eye and tell me how I’m supposed to do that.”
I gesture with both hands spread outward. “For starters, we’re locked in cages. I don’t think you’re going to have to try very hard to not save her.”
“I promised Mother that I’d always protect her, so I’ll find a way.”
He’s not getting it. No matter how long he sits on his ass, reading the same note over and over again, we’re not in control here. I grip the iron bars at the front of the cell and shake them. Scream into the abyss.
“I don’t know what planet you’re from, but steel bars aren’t exactly breakable.”
“That’s the point, Seven.”
“So you think I should just lie down and die? Lie down and let my sister die? Do you think I don’t know this is all my fault?”
“This isn’t your fault,” I say with a sigh. “This is your boyfriend’s fault.”
If looks could kill. “I’ve never had a boyfriend before. Certainly not that fucking creep.”
“I’ve been married, which you know.” I move to the back wall and brace myself against it. “I’ve had trysts. I was even going to run off with a guy once, but I’ve never had a boyfriend, either.”
“You’re the closest I’ve ever gotten, but you?—”
I step to the iron bars that separate us. “Say it.”
“I don’t know what I am to you.”
“You’re my punk.”
He jumps to his feet and meets me on the other side of the bars. “Yeah, that’s not fucking enough.”
He’s pleading for me to give him just the smallest thing, and it’s fucking impossible to say.
I bow my head, unable to look him in the eyes. I’m not good with this shit. Not good at expressing my feelings. I’ve never had to choke on those three words because I’ve never wanted to say them before. The limits of my emotions have always been expressed in grief and rage. “You know what I mean.”
“Actually, I really don’t. I don’t know anything.”
It builds like a storm. A gentle breeze in the gut, a swelling of the heart, and rumbling thunder as it escapes my throat, “I fucking love you!”
The silence deafens. With the prison bars between us, we might as well be a million miles apart. And yet, his lips curl into a smile. Eyes that have been dead for days come back to life, widening and gleaming.
“There,” I stammer. “Are you happy you got the big ol’ closed-off baby to admit it?”
He smirks. “I’d be a lot happier if you change your tone.”
I narrow my gaze on him. “You are completely incorrigible.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
He sinks to his knees, but his gaze remains fixed on me. Even when he unbuckles my belt. Even when he pops the button of my slacks and pulls the zipper down. I’ve had my dick sucked at a glory hole at a rest stop, but this has to be a new low.
