Page 78 of Dark Night of the Soul

Well, it was a start for both of us.

My eyes were heavy despite the hours of sleep. I guess my body was still trying to recover from everything that had happened.

Out of the blue, he asked, “Where’s your necklace?”

My necklace. I’d forgotten all about it. They’d taken it before they cut into my head. I never got it back. I didn’t even know where it was. The nurse could have pocketed it. She could have handed it to Vormund. Either way, it was gone.

“They took it,” I said simply. And saying it out loud was like a knife to the gut.

He’d bought that necklace in Jerusalem before our harrowing escape. A guardian angel standing behind a girl kneeling in prayer. He’d said it was a belated birthday present. It was worthless to anyone but me, but I’d worn it every day since.

He went still and said nothing. He didn’t offer to get it back or to buy me a new one. I appreciated that more than anything. He never gave me false hope. Even when my uncle died, he let me cry my eyes out while handing me a box of tissue and a glass of whiskey.

We’d been through a lot of horrible things together. This was one more horrible thing we’d survive.

I nestled into the corner of the sofa. Without thinking, I stretched out my legs. The ball of my foot brushed his thigh. I started to pull it away when his hand landed on my ankle. Casual. Relaxed. Like it was nothing.

My heart skipped. Which was ridiculous. It was my ankle. He’d touched me plenty of other times before without my heart wanting to beat out of my chest.

Actually, that wasn’t true. There was that one time in Spain where we were at the gala, and I wore a dress that cost the same as my last car, and he was in a tux. And he steered me onto the dance floor like it was the most natural thing in the world. My foggy mind latched onto that memory like a lifeline.

“That time in Spain,” I said. “At the gala.”

He tipped his head and looked down the length of the sofa toward me. “What about it?”

I wanted to say it was the night that changed everything. That he looked damn good in that tux. That I liked being in his arms, even if I couldn’t dance. That I wanted to be that girl again. That I would give anything to be back there again, except this time let him kiss me.

But I didn’t. Instead, I shielded myself with humor.

“I never told you, but you dance pretty good for an old guy.”

A brief scowl flashed across his face and then it was gone, replaced by something else. Something softer. “That gown…” He started, then stopped. His throat worked, remembering. “Green looked good on you.”

“That’s not what you said.”

“What?” he asked, looking confused.

Or pretending to. But I remembered this clearly. It was burned into memory. Because that was the night I admitted to myself that he mattered to me, that it was no longer a crush, that I was falling for him.

“You said I looked magnificent.” Then I gave a faint laugh. “And then you told me to stop fidgeting.”

“I don’t remember that.” He looked positively thrown.

And I liked that I rattled him. “You will someday.”

It was also the last thing I recalled before drifting to sleep.

Chapter 26 | Kincade

She was still asleep.

I hadn’t moved. Couldn’t bring myself to. My hand remained on her ankle, thumb resting against the bone. Such a small point of contact. Safe. Allowed.

It wasn’t enough.

The memory had been circling since she’d mentioned Spain. Green silk and crystals, her hand clutching mine as we moved across that dance floor. I’d spent the last three hours replaying it while she slept.

I feel ridiculous.