Page 140 of Traitor

Just stares at me, like she's trying to see if I mean it.

I turn to my bike and open the saddlebag. I hold out my hand to her, palm up, with the small blue flower I found. The one that made me think of her the second I saw it.

"Found this and thought of you. I was going to leave it on your porch tomorrow morning. Please don't give it away," I whisper.

She hesitates — just for a second.

Then, softly, carefully, she takes it from me. Her fingers brush mine, barely there, and I feel it like a fucking jolt to my chest.

A small smile forms on her lips. A ghost of something I thought I'd never see again.

"Who could I give it away to?" she murmurs, bringing the delicate petals close to her face. "It's just a small flower."

She stares at it. Lingers on it.

"It's beautiful," she whispers. "I used to love it when you did this." Her voice is quiet. "Found random things you thought I'd like and surprised me with them. It told me I was always in your thoughts."

I swallow the lump in my throat. "You are always in my thoughts. Always."

Her eyes darken. The moment shifts. The sadness deepens.

Fuck, I can't have that. I can't let this turn into another wound for her.

So I smirk. "So, was the cake really poisoned? Should I prepare myself?"

She laughs.

Full, belly-deep, unrestrained laughter.

It's the most beautiful fucking sound I've ever heard.

She clutches the flower to her chest, eyes gleaming with mischief. "I guess you'll see. I'm not telling."

She glances behind her, toward the house. Our moment is ending.

"I have to go now," she says softly.

I nod, forcing my voice to stay even. "Get some rest, beautiful."

She hesitates. Just for a second.

Then she nods and disappears back inside.

Half an hour later, I see Griffin leave.

And one of the chains around my heart finally snaps. A million more to go.

26. Paint

Temper

"Temperance, you've been staring at the wall for the last twenty minutes. You only have half an hour left of your session."

Dr. Monroe's voice is calm. The kind that's meant to ground people. But I'm too high-strung, too tangled in my own head for it to work. For months, I’ve been avoiding this session like the flames of hell.

I exhale sharply and tap my finger on my knee. Fast, erratic. I sigh and tilt my head back, looking at the ceiling instead of her.

"I know. I'm sorry. I just have no idea where to start. Things happened. A lot of things. And I honestly don't know if I can tell you all of it." I narrow my eyes slightly, looking at her. "If, hypothetically, let's say I did something illegal... would you have to report it?"

---