Page 74 of Possess Me! (I Want You To)

“Pru…” I reached across the table, commandeering one of his hands and giving it a squeeze. His palm was much broader than mine, but my fingers were longer. We looked like a matching set. Yin and yang. His palm scraped against my skin as I gave it another gentle squeeze. I already knew whatever it was—whatever had happened—it wasn’t his fault.

Unless he had outright murdered her, death was one of the only things that was blameless.

I didn’t say that though. I could see it wouldn’t help. He was closed off to me, his body tense, his hand stiff within my own. Cold. Like always. But in a new way too. My thumb swept over the top of his knuckles, the unfamiliar texture of his skin making my nerves dance. “Do you want to talk about it?” I barely recognized my voice, it was so…gentle. Low. Sweet.

Prudence shook his head.

I thought he would be done now, surely this was enough. Once again, I moved to stop him, but he kept speaking anyway. Maybe he needed to say this, more than I needed to hear it.

My burger was getting cold, and I’d probably gotten ketchup on my shirt leaning over it, but I didn’t care. Not when he was looking at me like that. Not when I could see the loneliness trembling inside the icy cavern of his gaze. Prudence grit his teeth, jaw muscle jumping again. I could literally see the moment it hit him that this being vulnerable thing? Yeah. It sucked.

But also…it was liberating too.

I hadn’t felt this light in fucking years.

Like by telling him the things I’d kept close to my chest, I’d let him take some of the weight from my shoulders. I could only hope he felt the same.

When Prudence spoke again, I was surprised by his words. “I hurt her son.”

There was very real pain behind that statement, and my grip on his hand grew tighter as I waited to hear what he had to say next. When he didn’t continue, I nodded. It was clear he needed the encouragement, because he released a stressed puff of breath, and a little furrow appeared between his dark brows.

The overhead light glinted off of his piercings as Prudence flicked his tongue stud against his teeth with a quiet click. “That wasn’t my fault. Not like Amanda’s death was.” I nodded again, scared of spooking him. Keeping the name Amanda close to my chest so I wouldn’t forget. “But I’ll never forget the way he cried.” I was squeezing his hand so hard at this point I worried it might be hurting him. But he didn’t seem to care. “Was that enough?” He asked, voice raw as gravel, almost hopeful. I blinked in confusion, my hand trembling with the tension of squeezing his so hard. “Now, will you talk to me like normal?”

Shit.

My heartbeat rabbited around inside my chest, my eyes burning a little as I nodded. “Sure, Pru.” I nodded again, and again. “For sure.” I reached for my burger with my free hand, took a bite, and made a happy groaning noise just to prove my point. “Mmmm burger-y.” When I stopped fluttering my lashes at him in mock pleasure, Prudence had relaxed somewhat. Which meant this was probably my only opportunity to say this—so. “You can talk to me, you know,” I said gently, his hand still gripped tight in mine as burger juice slipped onto my plate. “I’m good at talking. But I’m a passable listener too.”

“No.” Prudence’s response was expected. To my surprise? It didn’t sting. Not one single bit.

I grinned at him, unable to help myself. A lock of dark hair fell across his brow, and rather than blow it out of the way, he just let it be. My spooky, emo Clark Kent. “I have a feeling we’re going to be getting to know each other reaaaaal well by the time our adventure is over.”

He kicked me again. And I laughed.

* * *

Of course, because I had shit luck, nothing could stay good for long. With my burger finished, and our waiter still serving a massive party of drunk men getting their late night drunchies on, I patted my pockets looking for my wallet, only to discover it was not fucking there. I dropped Prudence’s hand.

I slapped my front pockets. Nothing.

Slapped my back pockets a second time. Nothing.

Scrounged around inside my hoodie, just to be sure.

But nope.

“What?” Pru’s voice was a quiet hiss. Curious. Concerned.

“My wallet…” I panicked some more as the realization of what had happened hit me square in the face. Here we were, three hours from home—and I’d been… “Shit.” The dude. The fucking dude! When we’d come in he’d slammed into me and I’d—oh god. I’d apologized like an idiot to the guy who had fucking robbed me.

“What?” Prudence repeated.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” I lamented my life. “I got pick-pocketed.” I shook my head in despair. “He hit me with the oldest trick in the book, and like a fucking sucker, I fell for it.” My scalp tingled as I pulled my hair taut. I was usually better at this. “I am such an idiot.”

My legacy gone, quicker than I could blink.

But I had bigger problems brewing.

Prudence growled at me again. This time it didn’t comfort me, I was too far gone. “No, you aren’t.” He was on high-alert already, tension buzzing beneath the swell of his broad shoulders as he glared out the window at the street, like the streetlights had been the ones to fucking rob me. “Tell me to go look for it.”

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