Page 47 of Ballrooms & Blackmail

Silence.

“I’d plan out what I was going to say.” My throat tightens slightly. “What I wouldn’t say. I had a whole playbook ready for whatever mood he’d come home in.” I look back at him. “And most of the time, it didn’t matter how prepared I was.”

Violet curls closer, like she understands what I’m saying, what I’m feeling.

“I still do it sometimes,” I admit.

Thorn leans toward me, loosening that fist, slowly reaching out a hand.

Waiting.

I hold still, emotion lodged painfully beneath my ribs. Then I find the courage to shift an inch closer.

He touches my cheek. “You don’t have to do that with me, don’t have to plan ahead, don’t have to think about every outcome.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “You can just be you.”

I know that.

Somehow, I really do.

Which may be the scariest part of all.

So naturally…I panic a little.

“You know,” I say quickly, drawing back. “I think I should whip up another batch of cookies. We ate a lot of them today and—” I start to stand.

His hand slides to my shoulder.

Not holding me in place. Just…holding me.

“You’re scared,” he murmurs.

“I absolutely am.”

“You know what the best cure for that is?”

Mute, I shake my head.

“Watching movies, eating cookies”—a nod to the plate overflowing with them on the table—“and”—he reaches into his pocket—“bribing the cat with gourmet salmon treats.”

I blink. Then again.

And then I smile.

Because he pulls the bag of treats out with a flourish.

And Violet pops her head up.

“Meow?”

Fifteen

Thorn

The scream startles me awake from a dead sleep and I’m moving before I fully process it.

Out of my bedroom, down the hall.

Into the guest room.