Page 74 of Touch of Hate

Almost.

I should find a way to contact them. Maybe suggest it while he’s in a good mood, acting like himself. Maybe if I mention Adela, it might be enough to get through to him. Adela and Mom. They’re innocent in his quest for vengeance.

If that fails, I’ll be honest and admit it pains me to know I’m hurting the people I love, as it would hurt to know I caused him agony.

Anything, so long as he lets me reach out and ease their minds.

“It might mean a little traveling.” He goes back to eating his oatmeal, inspiring me to do the same. Now that he’s got that off his chest, the weight on mine also seems to have lifted. There isn’t a massive fist squeezing my stomach, either.

“Okay.”

“But I doubt we’ll be on the road for long. I’ll have everything well in hand by the time it ever comes to that. No wandering around aimlessly.”

“I trust you.” Still, even though I mean it, the idea of going on a trip sparks fresh doubt. I really wish it wouldn’t. Why won’t my stupid brain stop screwing things up?

And just my luck, he notices. I don’t know how I gave it away. A muscle twitch? The inflection of my voice? No matter how, he sees through me. “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head, eyes on my food. I’ve never been so fascinated by plain old oatmeal. “Nothing. This is a lot to take in all at once, is all. But I’m fine.”

“Have you forgotten how long we’ve known each other? A wall came down in front of you just now.”

Terrific. I need to work on managing my reactions if he insists on watching me so closely. Especially when my reaction has to do with someone he probably won’t want to hear about.

Which is the better choice? Pretending nothing’s wrong or coming clean? Which one will keep us in this warm, cozy place where all that matters is being together?

“If we’re going to travel…” I hate this, I hate this, I hate it with every fiber of my being, with all the intensity of a thousand blazing suns. “I don’t know. It might not be a bad idea to get word to my dad and brother. Let them know I’m okay, and they don’t need to look for me. I don’t want us getting pulled over because there’s a description of us making the rounds, you know?”

Did that work? I sneak a glance at him, eyes darting up from what’s turning into concrete after cooling off, to find him scowling down at his bowl.

“We don’t have to,” I quickly add, almost tripping over my tongue in what’s dangerously close to panic. “I’m only thinking of you. There’s enough for you to worry about. You don’t need that extra concern. That’s all.”

He keeps me waiting for a beat. The longest beat of my life. It stretches out for years, millennia, while my gut twists, my heart seizes, and I forget to breathe. I would swear my wrists hurt worse than before, a silent reminder. A warning.

What will he do to me this time?

“I already sent a secure message to Q to tell him you’re safe.” He says it with enough sarcasm to send my heart plummeting. “But thank you. If I ever need you to be concerned for me, I’ll tell you so.”

No, no, this is all wrong. How did I screw up so spectacularly? “I’m sorry.” Thanks to my shaking hand, my spoon rattles against the edge of the bowl, so I drop it in favor of digging my nails into my palms and wishing I would learn to keep my mouth shut.

Silence falls between us, so thick and uncomfortable that it leaves me squirming in my seat. The pop of wood in the stove makes me jump, but Ren doesn’t seem to notice. He’s busy brooding. I made him feel like I don’t trust him or something, I guess. Like I don’t believe he can make this work.

Right? Is that it? How do I know if I don’t ask?

I know better than to ask.

I can’t sit here like this forever. I miss him, and he’s sitting across from me. A few feet away. But that’s just his body. His soul—everything that makes him Ren—is far away. Lost behind years’ worth of resentment and a thirst for vengeance.

I know none of this is about me.

But I miss him. I want him back.

“I have a confession to make.” It’s a whisper and a choked one at that, but at least I managed to get it out. Speaking didn’t kill me.

His gaze meets mine from beneath his lowered brow. Nothing about his demeanor encourages me to continue, but I have to. I need to bring him back to me and break through the stress and strain of what I know weighs on him. He’s been alone for too long. He can’t stand letting me get too close after spending years answering only to himself, with nobody to help him.

“When we were talking about the camping trip, I wasn’t completely honest.” I raise my shoulders, wincing. “I wasn’t actually afraid of the dark.”

“No?”

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