Page 269 of Fangs
“Ravenwashere,” she replied, her brows pulling together and a familiar stubborn light igniting in her eyes.
I had a pretty damn good idea why Raven switched places with me. As if Griz playing matchmaker wasn’t enough.
“Well, I guess you’re stuck with me now,” I sighed, shaking my head with an exaggerated frown.
“Ugh,” she groaned playfully.
“What were the tears for?” I asked, softer.
The vulnerability in her eyes seemed to freeze, hovering between letting me in and retreating behind that wall. I reacted instinctively, gently stroking my thumbs down her cheeks.
“Don’t shut me out, Em,” I murmured.
Her pupils dilated as my thumbs moved across her skin. “I don’t know how to explain it,” she whispered.
“Would it be easier like this?” I asked in her head.
“Maybe?”She frowned.“I just…felt…connected. To you. I felt your emotions about my…my scars.”
I fought to keep from reacting, but my heart started hammering in my chest.“Was that good or bad?”
“Good.” Her voice wobbled.
The words rushed to the tip of my tongue, suddenly desperate to pour from my mouth, but a loud knock on the door startled both of us. I dropped my hands and took a step back, and just like that, the spell was broken.
“Em?” Apple called. “Can we get some more paper?”
I stepped out to help the kids, giving her some privacy to finish getting dressed. She emerged a few minutes later, and the rest of the evening was mundane—domestic even. Wolf and his crew returned shortly after sunset, and I exchanged pleasantries with them, pretending not to notice how Lee’s hand lingered on the small of Ember’s back.
When I stepped outside, the cool evening air did little to ease the weight of everything I didn’t say. Inside the clinic, I heard her laugh, the sound like sunlight breaking through the clouds, and my feet stopped. I lingered on the small, rickety porch, listening to that beautiful sound and remembering the silence of those first few months. I’d tried so damn hard to hate her, but her hollow gaze haunted me. The moments she would spark to life and fight me, her eyes flashing with defiance and rage, were a relief. I preferred her like that—those moments when she seemedalive, even if it was fueled with fury at me.
I could carry the weight of these unspoken words if it meant she was happy. For now, it would be enough to love her in silence—in the spaces between words.
