Page 19 of Shark’s Rise

The conflagration never came. Instead, Abbi simply snuggled back into my side. “Hmmm,” she murmured while resting her head on my shoulder. “Okay, then.”

What the hell?

As the thought hit full force, I pulled back. Probed my stare down at her. In return, all I received was the vast emptiness of her huge emerald eyes.

“What?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Who are you, and what did you do with my Little Red?” I tried—and failed—to make it a joke.

“What do you mean?”

“I was expecting a full PowerPoint about why we should have the Feds involved in this.” I couldn’t help but frown.

“I trust you, Bas. I’m sure you know what’s best.” She snuggled back into my side, but I pulled away again.

“What?” she asked again, this time getting a little snippier. But barely.

“Seriously, Abs. What’s going on?” I pressed, more stern about it. She was really worrying me.

“Seriously.” She mocked my concerned tone. “Nothing.”

I squinted my eyes at her, not buying her bullshit for a second.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she retorted. “I’m not working an angle here. It’s simply called acquiescence, Sebastian. Resignation, if you’d rather.”

I rocked back. To be honest, I was stunned her two-by-four of an admission hadn’t knocked me completely to my ass. How was the word resignation even in the woman’s vocabulary? “Explain.”

She sighed. “Bas—”

“Explain.” I gritted it this time, though she barely seemed to care. A listless shrug preceded her listless plop back to the bench.

“I don’t know.” She waved a hand around with aimless uncertainty. “I guess…this. The whole situation.” She sat up straighter as I lowered back next to her. “Look,” she said, turning so we directly faced each other again, “I’m not trying to be evasive. Right now, I’m simply trying to be coherent. I’ve just spent an entire week locked away in my room, crying my eyes out until I was sick to my stomach every goddamn day. It’s not a good feeling, Sebastian.”

“I know.” No way could I pull the heartless bastard card right now. Part of me prayed that was still even possible, but it wasn’t. My twisting gut confirmed the inevitable truth. Abbigail Gibson held the damn thing in the palm of her hand, now and forever. “And, baby, I’m so sorry.” I took her hands and reverently kissed each one. “I’m just trying to keep you safe here.”

“I understand that. And I also understand that no matter how much I cry and kick and yell, you are going to leave me here again. You’re going back to your life in Los Angeles, and—”

“My life?” I deliberately punched out the second word. Barely resisted adding an acrid laugh—because right now, that term was truly a joke to me. “What makes you think I have any kind of a life without you?”

Abbigail didn’t say a thing. She just stared, still eerily calm. Scarily resigned. “But you’re still going back without me. And we still won’t even talk on the phone for days on end.”

“Damn it.” I shoved back up to my feet. Grabbed the back of my neck. “I’m doing my best here, Abbigail.” But at once, even I realized how ridiculous that sounded. “I…I thought I was doing the right thing by keeping my distance.”

And now, beyond ridiculous.

Further proof? Abbi’s continued stillness. And palpable, discernible tension.

She threw me one shred of mercy by speaking again.

“Wow.”

Okay, only one word. But I could work with that. “What?” I softly demanded.

“You weren’t joking.” She shook her head, exposing the wet tracks across her cheeks even as she wiped with visible frustration. “You really don’t know how to be a boyfriend, do you?”

“No.” I grimaced. “I guess I don’t.” As I dropped my hand, it felt like a goddamned anchor of grief. “I’m so sorry I made all this harder for you. I thought that if we talked a lot, it would just make us miss each other more.”

She dropped her hands too. Gripped them to the edge of the bench. “So you thought not talking at all was the answer?” She searched my face as disbelief washed over all her features.