Page 54 of Ballrooms & Blackmail

“It’s better if you don’t know.”

The blunt statement catches me off guard. “Seriously?”

He just shrugs.

Slowly, I shake my head. Honestly, part of me wants to give him Preston’s full name, the last four of his social and his last known address and just let Thorn loose.

The rest of me wants to move on.

Finally, I want to move on.

He just stands there waiting, watching.

I open my mouth, wanting to be done with my trauma, my past, wanting to prompt him to tell me about the Lyons, about what created those shadows in his eyes.

But…

Something stops me.

Tells me now’s not the right time.

Or maybe it’s that I want more of this, more of him—of being comfortable in his presence, of touching and talking and pretending the outside world is…

Well, not the outside world.

So, I don’t ask him to tell me about the Lyons, about what haunts him.

Instead, I snag a sugar cookie—one with extra sprinkles—and hold it up to his lips.

“Eat this and then try and argue with me about the importance of sprinkles.”

Seventeen

Thorn

River falls asleep against me during the movie again.

It feels a bit like tradition now.

One I’d give anything to keep building.

Which is why, even though my phone has been buzzing with texts and my inbox filling with emails, I don’t move for a long time.

I like her here, tucked tightly into my side.

A week ago, she—understandably—wouldn’t have let me anywhere near here.

Tonight, she’s pressed against me, trusting me to hold her while she sleeps.

And my stomach is overflowing with her delicious food.

Pretty fucking perfect.

She’s prettying fucking perfect.

So, what right do you have to touch her?

“Fuck you,” I whisper to that voice in my head.