Page 15 of Unspoken Promises

Two nights ago on the bus, I talked to an older lady who couldn’t sleep. She told me all about her granddaughter she was going to visit and all the ways she was proud of the little swimmer. I heard about the girl’s achievements and honors and how she learned how to swim before she could tie her shoes. In the single dim light we left on between us, I watched that grandma’s cheeks glow with pride and her smile swell with love. I don’t even know that grandma’s girl, but it was a beauty I felt honored to witness. A beauty I’ve never felt and I doubt anyone has ever felt about me.

For a brief moment in that conversation, I let a crack of hope slip through that my mom, or Anton, might have feltthat way about me. It’s silly to even think about such things, they change nothing about who I am.

But you can’t hold a sunrise either, and it doesn’t make me chase them any less. My life isn’t over. There’s still time to feel that love.

Enzo puts his arm up on the doorframe like he’s not leaving until I do. “You need to get out.”

I’m sure he’s been watching me, though he’s had the decency not to leave cameras in the house. I know because I checked.

I goad him. “How doyouknow I haven’t been out?”

How much would it take to get a rise out of this man?He’s so damn steady. So damn confident and mysterious behind those glasses and that sexy scowl. What would it take to see those full lips quirk up at the side?

Apparently, he’s not into banter because he promptly turns on his heel.

“Sure,” I blurt before I ruin my chances of leaving and doing it with someone.

God knows I’m not taking the first step on my own.

I have to start living at some point.

The minutewe leave the gates out of the ranch, my body goes into hyperdrive. My heart flutters. I’m going to town.I’m free.

Enzo has the air-con on, but I open the window a few inches anyway and lean my forehead on the glass, close my eyes, and allow the warm, wild breeze to whip the loose strands of my messy bun around on my forehead.

“Are you okay?” Enzo stares straight ahead.

I sit up and already miss the smell of the conifers we just passed. “Yeah. Why?”

“You were pressed against the window for air.”

“Funny how in movies when people roll down the window they appear whimsical and dreamy. In real life, the only reason someone might need air is because they’re sick.”

A puff escapes out of his nose, and if I didn’t know better, it was something like a laugh, though I’m met with the same stern jawline that shows me he’s not amused.

“I’m okay. I just like the way it smells here.”

He nods once which I’m pretty sure means he agrees. You need to be an expert in body language to have a conversation with this man.

I want more. Especially from him. As much as I’ll sit all day with the grannies on buses, I’m next level intrigued by the man next to me. I peek over every so often. Besides his gorgeous, strong tanned hands that would likely feel perfect around my waist and a chiseled profile that begs to be traced by my finger, I’d love to get inside his head.

I can only imagine the stories he has. Inventing this incredible software. The moment he realized he cracked through the world’s tightest masking tool for criminals online. It must have been one hell of a thrill. I know how I felt when I hacked his system. It was like my soul was on fire.

GhostEye is Enzo’s creation. Sure, without the other brothers it may not have made headlines, or even had the funding to come to life, but Enzo is the daddy. He’s the spark. GhostEye took years to develop, and from what I understand about business from stalking tech news, he must have been toiling for years without knowing if it would ever happen.

All to fight crime. All to make it harder for people to do bad things online and get away with it. All to identify and trace and find these people making our world ugly and scary. Enzo could have applied himself in hundreds of other areas and probably have been a multi-millionaire a long time ago. He has the brains to develop a new currency, to create an online monopoly of shopping networks, or do anything any other tech billionaire has done.

Why try to fight crime?

“What gave you the drive to work on GhostEye for so many years without it going anywhere?”

He flicks on his turn signal. “You said you read my article inFutureware.”

“You want me to trust a secondhand source?Youwouldn’t. Why should I?”

Another puff of air. I’d love to get a real laugh one day. It’s nice to know I have any impact on him, even if just a little one.

I press. “In the article it said you have a profound sense of justice. I’d get more backstory from a Marvel comic.”

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