Page 5 of These Tears

‘He was in for two years. I visited on Sundays. I was happy to see it didn’t change him.’

A breath.

‘I was scared it might.’

I’m uncertain if I’m boring him to death at this point.

My fingertips find the engagement ring at the base of my finger and start turning it slowly.

This is a complete waste of time. I can’t take photos. He doesn’t talk—

Driven by adrenaline, I let the backrest catch my weight with a soft thump. Then I cross my arms. Cross my legs.

And meet his stare dead-on.

‘I’m here to try and make your time inside easier. To talk to you. Or just listen. You don’t have to like me, but I signed up and so did you. If you’ve changed your mind, I’d rather you open that pretty mouth of yours and say it so we can move on.’

He cocks a thick dark brow, the bright caustics in his eyes flaring momentarily. The corner of said mouth twitches, and an unexpected warmth skims through my middle.

Thought it might jolt him a little.

I just didn’t expect the effect of his smile to jolt me straight back.

‘Pretty mouth of mine?’ he echoes quietly. Then his gaze sharpens. ‘So you’re one of those.’

The accent tries to be British, but there’s something in the way he stretches the vowels and rolls the Rs.

My brows pull lower. ‘One of what?’ I ask, unable to follow.

He tilts his head a fraction, looking at me as if he’s tracing bone structure with a scalpel.

‘Romancing the reprehensible.’

Reprehensible?

Wordy.

A quick breath escapes me as I battle to keep a smirk from springing out at his concealed eloquence.

‘You’re not my type.’ The lie makes him smile wider. ‘Chains and charm give me heartburn.’

And just because I’m unable to process why my instincts appreciate his amusement – and those cheekbones – I say bitingly, ‘I’m surprised you know big words like that.’

And the smile’s gone.

‘Because I’m behind bars, I don’t read?’

Angling my head slightly, I realise it’s the first thing he’s given me: ‘I read’. I’d rather be talking about what got him to the point of ending a life – but clearly, he wasn’t going to let me close without barbed wire between us. So I grab on to that fragile thread and hold for dear life.

One deep breath. ‘Apologies. I didn’t mean it like that.’

The quiet trickles slowly. Though fragile, it’s enough to loosen the tension by a fraction.

‘What are you reading now?’ I ask, tone lower, less derisive.

‘Nothing.’

I hum at that, unsure if he’s just deflecting or giving me an honest response.