“Admit it. He got under your skin a little bit.”
I ran a hand through my hair. “I guess he’s just … not what I expected?”
“What did you expect?”
People like Doyle, I realized. Predators sniffing around for vulnerable prey. Evil through and through.
“I expected a monster,” I said quietly. “But when he looked at me, it was like …” I touched the fading scar on my cheek. “He saw what nobody else does.”
Faith’s expression softened. “And what did he do when he saw it?”
“He asked who hurt me.” I huffed a laugh. “Like he was going to do something about it from behind bars.”
“That doesn’t sound like a monster at all.”
No. It didn’t, did it? It sounded like a man who could be big and scary if or when he needed to be, but around me at least, he was kind. Gentle.
A guy who, no matter how much logic told me not to, I kept thinking about.
Rainbow let out a long, mournful howl at nothing, then promptly fell asleep.
We sat in silence for a moment. The kind of silence that felt more like a conversation than words ever could.
“So,” Faith said finally, a dangerous glint in her eye, “what are you going to do the next time you see him?”
I stared at her.
WhatwasI going to do? The whole handholding thing had changed things because before that, we could sort of pretend that nothing was there. But now, we couldn’t. And I needed to think carefully.
The smart thing would be to keep my distance. Treat him like every other inmate. Detached.
Yet something about the way he’d looked at me—like he could see every bruise, every scar, every secret I’d buried—made that feel like an impossible task.
But based on that note, Silas had been in town. Might still be here. I had enough to deal with in my life right now.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
Later, when Faith had gone home and I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, I tried to answer that question, but instead, I found myself cataloging my creature comforts. Soft mattress. Warm bedding I’d picked out myself. A room that wasn’t much, but it wasmine.
And then I thought about the prison cell Knox was in right now. The stripped-down existence. No control over temperature. A lumpy cot probably far too small for his frame. His feet probably dangled off the edge. Did he even rememberwhat it was like to sleep in a comfortable bed that was big enough to hold him? Did he miss the softness of a pillow-top mattress and the warmth of a fluffy comforter? Or how about being in control of when he went to bed? When he got up? A nightstand of his own, with books, or whatever he wanted.
My heart twisted. Which was ridiculous.
This affection was just a natural reaction to someone standing up for me. That was all. It did not mean I liked him. I would not like him.Couldnot like him.
There was no scenario where I could ever see anything other than a violent inmate sitting in front of me.
Famous last words.
My cell phone buzzed.
23
HARPER
A text lit up my phone screen.
From an unknown number.
