Page 26 of Known By You
Her smile was all muscle, no feeling, and I kind of wanted to poke at her and see if I could coax something real out of her. Probably not the best idea if I didn’t want to confuse myself.
“Thanks. See you in a few hours.”
I wanted to go to the gym and burn off my energy, but decided to crank through some bodyweight work like pushups, squats, sit-ups, dips, and so on. Twenty minutes later, I felt a little better and showered.
I should’ve gone straight to bed, but I couldn’t. My mind had been circling Liz’s words from earlier and I didn’t have the self-control to keep from opening my door and padding into the living room.
She was seated in a chair facing the entryway to the room, a book in hand and only a few low lights remaining on. Outside the floor to ceiling windows, Vegas lights from neighboring hotels shimmered, mesmerizing if I weren’t sharing space with her.
“Did you need?—”
Her words cut off when I slipped into the chair next to her and grabbed her free handwith mine.
“This may be a bit much but that’s me, so I’m going to say it anyway.”
Her dark eyes watched, a stern curiosity lighting them as she took in my face.
“I’m glad you see that Silverton is special. I don’t think you would’ve chosen to take your break there or work with Saint if you didn’t.”
“True.”
I squeezed her hand gently once more, letting my thumb glide over the olive skin at her wrist, then released it. “Good.”
I rose, the last few words hovering on the tip of my tongue. Before I reached my door, I let them go.
“However misplaced this may be, I just want to say that you deserve to feel at home somewhere. You deserve that feeling of belonging. Maybe you have it in Europe, but…” I shook my head, not certain how to make sure I was making my point. “I guess I just wanted to say that out loud—if you want it, you should have it.”
She swallowed hard, her expression inscrutable. “Good night.”
Fair enough. Maybe she didn’t know what to say in response. Maybe I’d ticked her off and she’d sit there stewing at my over-stepping ass.
Or maybe there was something in her that felt it—the desire for what I’d described having, that I thanked God for every day. I wished it for her, for Evie, and for Jack.
“Night, Liz.”
If I could help any of them find it, I would.
Maybe it didn’t make a lick of sense, but the thought bounced around in my head as I shut the door…Especially her.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Elizabeth
Istared at Kenny’s closed door for a solid hour. The glossy white surface became a canvas for my imagination in ways I hadn’t experienced since I was a girl.
Did I want to feel the way Kenny claimed he did? Like he belonged in Silverton and like he’d found his home?
It wasn’t as simple as listening to the distant voice declaringyesssssfrom the rooftops of my mind. I had a career I couldn’t give up on, and an entire life I’d established. I’d worked hard to rise in the ranks and get to where I was—to have the relative autonomy and reputation I did. Or the one I thought I’d had.
That was part of all of this mess—I’d felt so secure in my job, so certain my superiors saw what value I brought. Secure in what I offered, too. I was someone who got the job done in creative, efficient ways. I completed the mission, cultivated the asset, got the intel we needed in record time. Iwas part of the giant wheel ensuring the good guys took out the bad guys.
But the longer I was away from it all, the more doubt niggled. If I was so valuable, would they have put me on leave for this investigation? Part of me said yes, this was the process. Part of me said no, they must not trust me like I thought. And if that were true, what else about my life had fooled me into thinking it was more than reality proved it to be?
Granted, that life felt thinner than ever these days. It was watered down milk in a glass left out overnight. It was pale, sallow, and even in winter, the colors of Silverton beckoned me.
I hadn’t told Kenny, or anyone, why I’d come to Silverton for the break. I wasn’t sure I wanted to, since admitting it to them would mean admitting I’d messed up. But worse, there was a decent chance cracking open the seal on the issue would let loose a deluge of other feelings I wasn’t sure I was ready to handle.
I imagined myself pouring all of the emotional mess this subject dug up for me into a neat little jar. I screwed the lid on, tucked it in a box, tied a lovely little bow around said box, and shoved it in the back of my mental storage space.
