Page 83 of His to Burn
Suddenly, I laughed.
I couldn’t stop myself. I let out that full, hearty belly laugh, and by the time it died down, Asia’s eyes blazed with anger.
“Don’t ever fucking laugh at me,” she said.
I hit a nerve, and the satisfaction of that wouldn’t go unrecognized.
I smiled at her, then took a step toward her.
“You look like you want to hit me," I said, unable to keep the glee out of my voice.
“I’d never do such a thing. You just killed three people in cold blood,” she said.
Her words killed the last of my laughter.
I glared at her for a second and then spun on my heel. “I’ll make dinner tonight,” I called over my shoulder.
“Jackson…” she said.
I didn’t respond.
Asia
“Jackson…”
His name slipped out before I could call it back.
He stopped but didn’t look at me.
“Yeah?”
His voice was clipped, his body was rigid, hostile—so different from the reverence I felt in his expression and his touch mere moments ago.
He closed himself off from me.
I wish I could take back his name.
Take back the other words I just uttered.
Instead, I said, “You don’t have to cook.”
I wanted to kick my own ass.
Words, communication, conveying feelings.
That was my job, had been mylifefor years.
And now, when it mattered most, that was the best I came up with?
So fucking lame.
Jack huffed, his nostrils flaring and then he shook his head. “I said I got it.”
Then he marched out of the room.
Maybe I should have been relieved.
After all, there was space between us now, so presumably, I’d be able to think more clearly, and he’d have time to calm down.
