“That’s because you only walk in on moments that are innocent but seem otherwise.”
“Was it innocent when he was fucking you on the stairs?”
I winced, and he instantly apologized, “I didn’t mean that.”
“Yes, you did.”
He inhaled a deep breath in the same way he always did, letting me know his patience was wearing thin. I knew better than to poke the bear, but I couldn’t stay quiet anymore. It was what got us into this whole mess. He needed to know he could talk to me without me judging him.
Following up exactly the way I assumed he would, he questioned, “Do you know?” His gaze shifted toward my stomach.
“Do I know what?”
“Don’t make me say it, Mouse.”
I shook my head. “No.”
He placed his hand there, searching for truth. “You think it’s mine?”
I winced again, hating that I was hurting him. “I’m not sure.”
He slightly nodded, thinking about it for a moment.
In a stern voice, he called me out. “Do you want it to be?”
I swallowed hard, unsure what to say or do. I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. My head spun in a whirlwind of emotions as I battled my heart.
My eyes followed the quick movement of his strong arms as they came around my body. Skimming the sides of my ribs to place his hands on the wall behind me. He caged me in against his body, his scent, his heat, which was comforting and tormenting all at once.
The closer he got to me, the more I wanted to feel him everywhere. Yearning to be soothed by his touch.
He didn’t.
If he touched me, we’d both get burned in the flames that always surrounded us.
I changed the subject. “How did you know I knew?”
“Because I know you,” he emphasized, getting closer to my face.
I could feel him grinning, knowing he was the cause of the rapid rhythm beating against his chest. His warmth washed over me. I had no words left. He rendered me speechless. All I had were emotions spilling out. The floodgates opened, letting out everything I held in so deeply. Tears began to stream down my face.
His hand rose to the side of my cheek. “You know I hate seeing you cry. Don’t waste your tears on me.”
I knew why. I just didn’t want to say it out loud. I didn’t want to admit what had shifted or who had caused it. His shirt, which I was wearing, slipped slightly off my shoulder, the fabric too big and loose. I hadn’t meant to put it on. I just did.
Maybe I felt he was coming home?
“Do you hate me, Mouse?”
“I could never hate you, Julius, but I was really mad at you for leaving me.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m just happy that you’re back.” I slid out of his hold and spoke more truth, trying to answer his question in the only way I could. “I’m only eighteen. You’re only nineteen.”
“I know how old we are, Isla.”
“I can barely take care of myself.”
