Page 96 of Freeing Hook

Her pretty eyelashes flitter in surprise. When she presses her tile into my palm, she lets her hand linger there.

I open my palm to find the word “NO” glaring back at me.

The laugh I let out this time is somewhat strained.

Tink holds up a finger, indicating for me to wait. Then she fishes another set of tiles from the board. “BUT I NEED.”

For reasons I can’t explain, something feels like it’s lodged itself in my throat. “You need the truth.”

She nods, her expression earnest. “WENDY NEED TRUTH TOO.”

I squint, the island salt air burning my eyes. “I think I hurt her without meaning to. Said some cruel things. About her and Peter.”

She shakes her head, then points emphatically at the tiles. “WENDY NEED TRUTH TOO.” She searches the rest of the tiles until she finds what she’s looking for. “IF HURT?” Tink shrugs, then flits her hand as if to say, “So what?” “JOHN LOVE WENDY.”

“I wish I could talk to her again,” I say, the bulge in my throat expanding. I imagine it pressing against the base of my tongue. “Be gentler this time. I think my message got a little lost in my bluntness.”

“YOU FIND WENDY.”

I raise my brow. “You think I can? Now I think maybe you’re not being honest with me. You know lies don’t make me feel any better.”

She shrugs as if to say, “Worth a try.”

“You know, I wish I could hear your voice.” The words are out before I even realize I’ve said them, my tone deeper, more gravelly than usual.

Tink offers me a sly smile. “IT UGLY.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“HOW YOU THINK?”

When I offer her a confused look, she slaps a rather regretful finger on “HEAR.”

How you think hear? I run over it in my mind. “Oh, how do I think your voice sounds?”

She nods, and then tosses me a tile for me to carve “SOUND” onto.

I let out a nervous chuckle as I’m working. “I dunno. I guess I imagine it deeper than most women’s.”

As Tink looks as if she’s once again contemplating eating me alive, I wave my hands. “No, I mean in the sultry sort of way. Like a stage singer. The kind of voice that sounds like you smoke pipe tobacco, but somehow still young sounding.”

Tink stares at me.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” I say, my heart racing. Her stunning blue eyes glint with challenge, but she doesn’t pluck the “WRONG” tile from the board.

I offer her the smuggest attempt at a smirk I can manage with my heart pounding out of my chest. Man, I bet she can hear my reaction to her with those pointed ears of hers.

“That’s what I thought,” I say. “I’m not often wrong.” Then, something oddly bold comes over me. “Besides. I’ve had too much time to think about it to be wrong.”

Tink cocks her head to the side. “THAT ALL?”

My throat goes dry. I could pretend I don’t understand her meaning. Avoid the question altogether. But that doesn’t seem fair to her. Not when she’s been deprived of communication for so long. “You’re asking if your voice is all I’ve thought about when it comes to you?”

She nods.

My breath quickens. “You did say you like the truth, didn’t you?”

She shakes her head, and as my stomach drops, she pushes a tile into my hand. I don’t have to look at it to know which one it is. “NEED.”

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