Page 46 of The Pawn
I watch him go and I don’t realize how tightly I’m holding my fork until he’s out of sight, vanished into his office. When I shift my gaze back to the table, I find Jet watching me like he knows what I’m thinking. I get the feeling he knows who just called too.
“Why did you two fight?” I ask.
“Why do you think?”
Me. They fought over me.
A long silence follows. I pick up my wine, but my stomach protests. I touch my lips to the rim of the glass, but don’t open my mouth, don’t swallow. Jet’s eyes are on me all along.
“Does he always jump when she calls?” I ask after setting my glass down.
“When who calls?”
“Don’t be like that.”
“Like what?”
“Nothing. Forget it.” I pick up some pasta, but stop. “You know, I liked you a lot better the other night.”
“Why’s that?”
“You told me about your nightmares.”
“You liked me better because I told you I have nightmares?” I watch his throat work when he swallows. This is harder for him than he wants to let on.
“I liked your honesty. Your… humanness.”
“Myhumanness? Is that a word?”
I study him. “I don’t think Cassian’s ever been scared.”
Jet breaks the lock of our eyes. “Don’t be so sure,” hesays seriously. I want to ask what he means, but he continues before I can. “What do you want, Allegra?”
“I want you the way you were the other night,” I tell him and as the words come unbidden, I realize how raw they sound.
Jet studies me, eyes steady. “I’m not sure that’s what Cassian wants.”
“Is that why the bruise?”
“You do seem to come up a lot in conversation lately.”
“What do you want, Jet?” I ask.
He considers, looks at his plate of food. I don’t think either of us are hungry anymore. He shifts his gaze back to mine. “Maybe I want to be the way we were the other night too.”
I smile, unsure of the chaos of emotions inside my body right now. I love Cassian. I know that. This Jet, though, this vulnerable version of Jet? He’s special. I just haven’t figured out how.
“Who did you trust who is untrustworthy?” I ask because I want to know about his scars, and I remember how he’d told me that.
His eyes narrow thoughtfully, and he must remember our conversation the other night because one corner of his mouth lifts up into a grin.
“My brother,” he answers and I’m not sure if I expected him to tell me or not.
“Your brother did that to you?”
He glances at my hand, the one without the bandage. “Sometimes family can be a real drag.” His mouth stretches into a grin that’s not remotely close to a smile. He eats a bite of pasta, leans back in his chair and studies me. “He promised to look after Vivi and Gage after Seth,” he says.
I raise my eyebrows.
