Page 64 of Silent Shadows

“Does that bother you?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say immediately.

His mouth quirks. “At least you’re honest.”

“I’m always honest.”

“No, you are selectively honest.”

“Rude.”

“Accurate.”

I glare at him.

He doesn’t flinch.

That’s another thing. Most men either rise to meet my edge or try to soften it. Miles just lets it exist. Like weather. Like terrain. Something to account for, not conquer.

I look away first.

“I thought I knew what this was,” I admit.

His expression shifts.

Gently.

“What did you think it was?”

“People,” I say. “Characters.”

His gaze stays on me.

“And now?”

I think about the waveform.

The canyon.

The way my stomach dropped when I heard that sound again.

“I don’t know,” I say.

Miles nods once, like that answer means more than certainty.

“Good.”

I frown. “Good?”

“Not knowing is the first honest place to start.”

There he goes again, saying things that should sound cheesy but don’t because he means them.

I hate it. I love it. I am in so much trouble.

From the table, Taylor yells, “Daisy, we’re voting! Is Jax dish-drying energy or trash-taking energy?”

I look at Jax, who is balancing a spoon on his nose.