Page 36 of Unspoken Promises

But why am I even thinking this way about my boss? I need to find a way to stay here, not mess it up by crossing the line. Last night was confusing. I loved his hands on me. The caring, cautious pressure he swiped across my bare skin. That sumptuous bulge in his tight boxer briefs right in front of my face. The way I swear I felt his eyes drop momentarily to my slung shorts and I set on fire between my legs despite all my pain. Was it Enzo’s touch? Or was I bound to ignite the first time a man came that close?

I’ve never been touched romantically. But that impossibly handsome face of his, those strong hands, those biceps that would hold me tight… I can’t even imagine wanting another man to do it now that he has.

I shake myself from a haze and realize I’m staring at his profile. He hasn’t moved either for moments; his long, masculine fingers positioned over his keyboard are quiet. Maybe he’s still thinking about last night, too.

Being professional is what I should be doing. Making progress on my situation is what I should be doing. I can’t be getting distracted. I have shit to get done and my ass to save. I felt free last night, but I won’t truly be liberated until Ava Scott has an official identity.

I need to focus on the deal I want to strike. Last night, I managed to find out more than he intended me to. It’s something he really needs to know. Something I’ll tell him even if he doesn’t make this deal with me.

But I really hope he does.

His deep brown eyes are impossible to read as he considers what I want. It should scare me that I can’t readEnzo but it just makes me want to know him better instead. I get the feeling he keeps secrets, too. Maybe even ones like mine because there’s something dark and self-loathing in his gaze. Sometimes I feel that way. Like I’m damaged.

Maybe he feels the same connection I do. There’s an affinity in his gaze that wasn’t there before.

To my surprise, he completely ignores my proposition.

“How did you get into computer science?”

His question catches me off guard.

But equally, it’s a relief for him to finally ask something I can answer honestly. “When I was really young, like nine or ten, I think, it was before my mom left and she had to work all the time,” Something took her away from home anyway. “I was on my own at home a lot, and that winter it was so, so boring over Christmas break. I was looking for things to do.”

At that point, I didn’t have Fuzzy coming around to visit, and Maddy was at her grandparents’. Everyone was busy with Christmas celebrations and going around looking at lights, singing carols and picking up trees. Not me. My mom was gone most of the time that Christmas. She came home, slept and left again, sometimes before I got up, leaving fish sticks and French fries in the freezer she trusted me to cook. I’m lucky I only have one burn scar from those days.

“Anyway, there was this really old radio in the house and an old TV, because to be honest, we were dirt-poor. It was an ancient thing. You know the ones with knobs?”

He nods.

“Well, I decided to take these things apart and see how they worked and then put them together again. I went next door and asked the old lady who lived there if I could borrow some screwdrivers, which I assumed I needed. She was a widow and gave me this whole toolbox she said was her husband’s and she didn’t need any of it anymore.” Ilaugh lightly. “She handed it to me and said Merry Christmas. It really was a great Christmas.”

That Christmas I didn’t care that Santa only left me a Snickers bar not even wrapped in paper. All I cared about was the pursuit of how things worked.

“Taking those things apart and learning how they worked was, I mean, it probably sounds dumb but it was fascinating to me. I took apart almost everything else I could. I’d find things left on a curb somewhere…” I was so obsessed, I wasn’t even above dumpster diving. “I deconstructed anything that wasn’t digital. And then eventually when I was confident I wouldn’t get electrocuted, things that were.”

He blows sharp air out of his nose.

“What? You think I’m silly?” I ask.

“Not at all. I did the same thing with clocks and farm apparatus when I was younger.”

“You did?” My heart squeezes at the thought of us having this in common. “I was pretty obsessed.”

He puts his glasses back on. “One year for my birthday I asked for broken things from Goodwill.”

A warm smile glows in my chest. This is the first personal thing he’s shared with me. Imagining young Enzo asking for busted appliances for his birthday present makes him feel like a kindred spirit. We’re staring at each other as if in a mirror that reflects our best self. Our innocent self. The beginning before solving puzzles became less innocent. Because as much as hacking is the most incredible way to binge on that juicy feeling of curiosity, it often leads down dark alleys. I’m sure Enzo has been down many, too.

I finish answering his original question. “I guess you’ll understand then that when I discovered coding and everything, I just thought it was how deep space must be toscientists. It’s a never-ending way to try and satisfy that part of me that loves figuring things out.”

He gazes at me and lifts his eyebrows above those serious, hooded brown eyes. “And yet it never really satiates.”

In this moment, an understanding passes between us deeper than any exchange before. I’ve never felt this way. Like someone really gets me. Like someone can understand the ache of curiosity and how addictive it is. But I see all of that in his gaze. I still want to know his reasons why, but he moves the conversation elsewhere.

“Your uncle must have been very supportive.”

I change the subject back to him. I want to know him more. “Wereyourparents supportive? Your dad seems like he’d be a cheerleader for everything.”

Enzo started warming up for a moment there, but I think I lost him.

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