Page 58 of Desperate Actions

I push forward anyway.

“Because if you didn’t mean it, it’s okay. But tell me now?—”

“Hey.”

His voice is firm, almost gruff, but not unkind.

His brows furrow, his strong hand reaching for mine before I can even think about pulling away.

“Don’t even finish that sentence.”

I stare at his serious, set expression, but I have to ask.

I have to know.

“I just want to know before we see everyone today,” I say softly.

His jaw flexes.

“What do you really mean?”

I hesitate. “Well, how do we act? Do we pretend none of this happened? I mean, you know someone is gonna tell all the parents. And if we’re just fucking around?—”

His eyes darken, flashing something close to irritation, but not at me.

“First of all, I’m not fucking around. Second, it would be impossible to pretendthisdidn’t happen.”

He gestures between us, his tone rough with certainty.

“And third, I wouldn’t want to pretend.”

His hand tightens around mine, his grip strong, steady.

“This is very real, Aella. But if you don’t want it to get back to our parents yet, we’ll make an announcement at dinner and swear everyone to secrecy. They’ll do it. You know they will.”

He’s right.

We’re all so close, bound together by blood, loyalty, and history.

If we ask them to keep this secret, they will.

No questions. No slip-ups.

“Okay,” I whisper, my voice smaller than I want it to be.

But he hears me.

And he reads my hesitation, the way he always does.

Sammy is a protector by nature. A caretaker. A man who handles things, fixes things.

But the way he takes care of me—it’s different.

It’s everything.

And I like it.

I like it too much.

---