Page 41 of These Tears

And then my mind makes the dangerous mistake of placing myself inside that picture. Not as weight he has to carry, or a question he shies away from. But as someone wanted. Someone chosen.

The thought settles deep in my chest, dangerous in its softness, because it gives the illusion that the distance between us feels crossable. And it makes him feel almost reachable.

Then he lets go.

The loss of his touch cuts the spell clean through.

He reclines for one brief, bracing second, squaring his shoulders, and looks down between his shoes. The room comes back to me all at once.

Reality restored.

Along with everything waiting beyond it.

The lawyer’s warning has been needling at me since yesterday.

‘How dangerous is Cromwell?’ I ask.

His gaze snaps to mine so fast it feels like impact, breath locking in his chest for one awful second.

‘You went to see him?’ The tremor in his jaw tells me more than his voice does.

‘Yes, but—’

‘What did you tell him?’

I recount the conversation. He never interrupts. By the time I finish, both his hands are fisted on the table and the chain between the wrists has drawn taut.

‘Stay away from him,’ he rumbles.

The words come too quickly. His teeth clench immediately afterwards, as if he regrets letting them escape.

Something begins to crawl under my skin. Because I’ve seen this man angry, cold, amused and cruel. I’ve never heard fear in his voice before.

I study the muscle jumping in his jaw, the way his fingers open once before curling back into fists.

Unease begins to spread through me in slow, black threads. I weigh whether I should tell him the rest.

I risk it anyway.

‘I’ve also… found someone willing to look at your case.’

‘I don’t need a lawyer.’

‘He’s good. And he’s willing to tangle with this—’

‘Just let it go!’ he snarls, his voice breaking through the stillness like a crack through glass, leaving everything inside me ringing.

My heel scrapes faintly against the floor as I flinch.

He has never raised his voice at me like that.

He closes his eyes, trying to contain the anger. When he opens them again, it’s still there, simmering.

‘I’ve told you time and time again,’ he says, ‘stop touching this. This is nothing like anything you can imagine. There are dangerous people in this world who will make you regret ever meeting me.’

‘They can’t make me regret it.’ It leaves me on a breath. Too quickly. Without permission.

I turn towards the barred window at once and fix on a grey seam between the clouds. I can’t make myself look anywhere near him until I can breathe normally again.