Spine straightening, I clench and unclench my fists before forcing them on my lap. “Let me ask you something, Ms. Perfect.”
Witner scowls.
“Why did you let it go that far if you didn’t want it? You could have said no and told me to stop. You could have kneed me in the balls and yelled for help. But you didn’t do any of that. So are you mad at me or are you mad at yourself?”
Her throat bobs, and I know I got her.
If she wants to feel guilty for what we did, have at it. But I won’t be dragged into her pity party. I’ve got better things to do.
A Coke gets placed in front of me, along with a straw and a menu. Linda is staring between us inquisitively, sensing the tension in the air. She simply shakes her head and walks away, leaving us to deal with the mess we’ve made.
“She said you were lonely,” Winter eventually whispers, staring into her lap.
My brows furrow, and some of my anger dissipates. “Who told you that?”
Another few seconds pass, and she spends them fidgeting with her fingers under the table. Then, offers me a quiet, “Emaly.”
Ah.
When she peeks up at me, there’s no guilt. Only shyness. “She said you were lonely too.”
Too.
Now I understand why Emaly brought her to me. Because she sees the same thing in Winter as I do. A mirrored reflection. Somebody holding on to a million pieces of themselves, unsure if they can be put back together. We are walking shards of broken pasts, bleeding and praying to push aside the things holding us back to get…something. Anything.
Relief.
Happiness.
A distraction at best.
My muscles relax, and I lean back in the booth to settle against the cushion. “That certainly sounds like something she would say.”
Emaly has always been observant. Half the time, she sees things before I do. She claims it’s because she’s an empath and in tune with people’s emotions. If that’s the case, I don’t envy her. I’m a sad bastard to be around.
“So it’s not true?” Winter questions.
I pick up the menu and scan it, reading through the burger options. “I didn’t say that.” I pause. Then, “You’re going to eat, right?”
When she doesn’t answer, I look over the top of the menu to see her gaping.
“What?” I ask casually. “The breakfast burger looks good if you’re not opposed to eggs on it. They have other options though.”
“You…” She blinks, shaking her head. “Is that really all you’re going to say?”
I lower the menu down. “What wouldyoulike to talk about? Everything I suggest you don’t seem to have an interest in speaking about. Like how your face scrunches when you—”
“Stop,” she squeaks.
I grin. “My point exactly.”
“We’re in public,” she murmurs.
“We were in public against that wall too.”
Crimson may be a permanent color on her, but it looks good against the blond. “I still have questions. What you said is big. Huge. It could change so much about the work we’re—”
“Nobody is going to find out about what I told you,” I cut her off with no argument in my tone. “I meant what I said, Winter. That stays between us. The only reason you know is because youlooked two seconds away from jumping out a window and into oncoming traffic. I had to figure out how to stop you from doing that.”
