I didn’t exactly have a choice,he almost said, but that wasn’t true. Not really. And this wasn’t the right place for lies or sarcasm.
He cleared his throat. “You’re, uh, welcome.”
“Why don’t I take a seat on one of the benches, and you can make a few trips up and down the stairs?” Her smile was so kind and sincere, witnessing it stung. “That way, you can burn off some energy while still keeping me in sight. I want to make sure you can get some sleep once you’re back home.”
With a jerky nod, he waved her toward the nearest bench, a few steps down. Once she was settled, he took off at his normal pace, a near-jog, down those 148 steps and then back up.
Once he’d made one lap, she called out as he passed by, “How old is this stretch?”
“The 1920s,” he answered without breaking stride.
Her voice floated behind him, pursuing him down the stairs. “You’re going so fast. Please be careful, Alex.”
After that, she left him alone, but her gaze rested on his skin like an extra layer of clothing. Another lap, and he tossed his shirt at her feet as he raced past.
It helped, but didn’t entirely fix the issue. The night must be muggier than normal, even as high up as they were.
Maybe forty minutes later, when he’d emptied most of the detritus from his brain, he registered familiar noises.
The hoot of an owl. The chirp of another bird, one he couldn’t identify.
When he passed Lauren the next time, he slowed. “Did you hear that?”
Her brow furrowed. “Did I hear what?”
“Hooting. Chirping. Birds.” Panting, he paused a couple steps below her bench, and they were suddenly even in height, eye to eye. “Not a wren, most likely, but I suppose I have one of those anyway, right?”
Reaching out, he gently flicked that distinctive nose, then kept going. Only to discover, the next go-round, that Lauren wasn’t looking at him anymore, and she’d hunched her shoulders in a way he hadn’t seen in weeks. The serene smile lighting her face for the past hour might never have existed. Her expression had turned as blank as the day they’d first met.
Shit.
Halting at her bench, he used his discarded shirt to swipe at his face, his chest, his arms. He made quite a show of it, in fact, and got nothing in response. Not a glance, not a comment.
Well, fuck. He was going to have to say something, wasn’t he?
“I’m an asshole. We both know this.” He set his fists on his hips and ducked his head, trying in vain to meet her eyes. “However, in this particular instance, it might be helpful to know the specific way in which I demonstrated said assholery just now, because I truly have no idea.”
She exhaled through her nose. “It’s okay, Alex. Don’t worry about it.”
“If I don’t know what I did or said, I can’t deploy that particular action or phrase when an urgent need for assholery might arise again. As always, preparation is key.” No response. Fine, then. He’d be sincere, damn it. “If I don’t know, I also can’t avoid doing whatever I did again. I don’t want to make you angry.”
“I’m not angry,” she said quietly.
Hurt, then. Fuck. That waswayworse.
Frustrated and panicky, his pulse pounding in his ears, he climbed to her level and crouched in front of her, until she couldn’t avoid looking at him.
“I’m sorry.” Reaching out, he covered her hand where it rested in her lap. His palm was sweaty, but she wouldn’t mind. For all her austerity, she was surprisingly tolerant. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry, Wren.”
There. She’d flinched.
“Wait. Is this about my new nickname for you?” When she slid her hand out from under his, he sat back on his heels and obeyed her silent directive not to touch. “Because Sionna calls you the same thing, and you don’t seem bothered at all.”
“She calls me Ren.R-E-N.Short for Lauren.” Her attempt at a smile was short-lived. “As I just discovered, you apparently call me Wren.W-R-E-N.Short for ‘my minder has a ridiculous beak for a nose.’ ”
“No. Lauren, no.” He kept his voice stern. Firm, because he was serious for once, and she needed to know that. “I call you Wren because, yes, your features and overall appearance may be somewhat avian—”
She looked away again, and goddammit, he should have started somewhere else. But he was committed now, so he kept barreling forward, as was his custom.
