Page 60 of Caught from Behind

More gifts.

I tuck them close, alongside the other precious pieces she’s bestowed on me—they’re a small part of the puzzle of Ella, hardly anything, but this woman is so fucking good at presenting the notion of being an open book while keeping everything important close to her chest that it feels like slamming home a game-winning goal in double overtime.

“What else?” I ask, even though I know I need to bring her inside, get her warm, let her spend time with her best friend and take her home before it gets too late.

“I used to want to be an astronaut.”

That has me rocking back slightly on my heels in surprise. “Really?”

She shrugs, her cheeks a little pink and I know it’s not from the cold. “It was before I realized I’d actually have to go to space, of course.”

“Naturally.”

“When Knox clued me in to that small detail, I realized I could appreciate the sky a lot better from down here.” She glances up, studying the darkness overhead for a moment, and then points. “See there? That bright dot that looks like a big star near the horizon?”

“Yes,” I murmur, running my fingers through the ends of her hair.

“That’s Venus.”

“Really?”

“And over there?” She points a bit to the side.

I nod. “That’s…” She names a constellation I’ve never heard up. Then doesn’t stop naming, guiding my eyes towards various spots in the sky, pointing out secrets I’ve never bothered to notice.

It’s intoxicating listening to her talk, hearing the same excitement in her voice as when she talked about her clients the other morning.

Passion.

Joy.

Ella.

I’m so caught up in listening to her, in gathering the little secret pieces of her, that it takes me a long time to realize that she’s shaking so hard her body is practically vibrating against mine, that her teeth are chattering and her hands are like ice when I capture them.

So, as much as I want to hear her go on, I call an end to this and nudge her toward the door. “Time to go inside, chérie.”

She sighs but doesn’t fight me.

Still, I don’t miss that she hesitates as she reaches for the handle.

“What?” I ask quietly.

Long moments of silence.

Then she shakes her head and whispers, “Nothing.”

I study her face. There’s real fear there. Like she’s content to share her childhood dreams…

But too scared to ask for what she really needs now.

That’s okay.

I don’t intend to make her ask.

“The night isn’t going to end here, chérie,” I say and then, because that makes her fear increase, I brush my lips over hers and add, “But I do need to get us inside because this patch on the back of my head is cold as shit.”

She’s motionless for one more second.

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