Her expression changes. “Plenty scares me.”
The honesty quiets me.
She rests her forearms on the table. “The gang scares me. Losing the bakery scares me. Opening bills scares me sometimes, which is embarrassing but true. Garrett scared me after the fact because he made me wonder whether my own judgment was a trap waiting to spring. And last night, you scared me in the alley.”
I force myself to hear it.
“But you did not scare me today,” she says. “Your pain did. There’s a difference.”
I grip the back of the chair. “You speak too easily.”
“No, I speak too much. There’s also a difference.”
For the first time in longer than I can measure, a real smile almost escapes me. I feel it begin, small and unfamiliar, pulling at scar tissue near my mouth.
Evie sees it.
Her eyes widen with delighted triumph. “Was that a smile?”
“No.”
“That was almost a smile.”
“It was muscle strain.”
“Your face had joy-adjacent activity.”
“It did not.”
“It absolutely did. Darlene!”
I point one claw at her. “Do not summon witnesses.”
Darlene appears in the doorway instantly. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say.
“He almost smiled,” Evie announces.
Darlene looks at me with grave interest. “Did it hurt?”
“I did not smile.”
“Shame. I wanted to know if the building shook.”
Evie laughs, bright and pleased, and this time I cannot stop the small curve at the corner of my mouth.
Both women go still.
I immediately look down at the coffee.
Darlene speaks first. “Well, I’ll be damned. The siege engine has dimples.”
“I do not have dimples.”
“You have something.”
“Scars.”
