She probably would hate that I thought that.
“If you’re asking if they know about that night,” I said. “They don’t. They know you’re here to escape someone. But that’s all they know.”
She looked like she still didn’t believe me.
“I promise,” I said.
She snorted. “I don’t think your word holds much power anymore, Ramsey.”
She hadn’t ever called me by that name.
And it hurt that she’d used it now.
“You can’t use that name ever again,” I said. “It’s not just us that needs to stay hidden.”
Curiosity lit in her eyes.
I could tell that she wanted to ask questions.
But like I didn’t share her information with the others—at least not fully—I wouldn’t share theirs with her.
If they wanted to share it with her directly, that was their prerogative.
But I’d had my life violated enough to know that I wouldn’t want others doing it to me, so I didn’t do it to them.
“Whatever.” She looked away. “I have to take Neo for a walk.” She moved past me. “See you around.”
I was dismissed.
I found that I didn’t like being dismissed.
At least not by her.
But since I was a good person, I chose to give her the space she was obviously asking for.
As I left out, though, I tried not to examine how the situation made me feel.
It was of my own making, after all.
Every time I saw her over the next three months it was more of the same.
Acknowledgment. Politeness. But under it all was a burning anger directed at me.
I deserved it.
After I’d left her that night, I’d given it a lot of thought.
And I realized that I would’ve been pretty fuckin’ pissed, too, had I learned that she’d died, then found out that she wasn’t dead after all, but hiding.
We had a bond.
One that was forged in fire.
I should’ve shared it with her sooner.
Or as soon as I could.
I’d gotten her here as fast as I could, away from the Irish Mob’s clutches.
