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He turned on his side. Bending one arm, he rested his face in his palm and stared down at her. "Then I guess I want the long version."
She was thrown back in time for an instant, to the years she spent alone, huddled in doorways or locked behind the hospital's iron bars. She squeezed her eyes shut, ignoring the terrifying images that leapt to mind. "It's boring."
She felt his gaze on her face, probing and intense. Part of her wanted to roll away from his s
crutiny. But another part of her, the part that had recently come to life, wanted to know what he saw when he looked in her eyes.
"Not to me, it wouldn't be."
She looked at him finally. No one had ever asked her the question outright before?except the shrinks and social workers who were paid to ask but rarely listened to the answers. She was so used to lying about her past, either for shock value or to paint a pretty picture for Kelly, that she'd almost forgotten how much it hurt to tell the truth. Their faces were close, close enough to kiss, and the thought of it filled her with longing. "It's so ugly. If you knew the things I've done ..."
He made a soft sound that might have been a laugh or a sigh or a combination of the two. "Look who you're talking to, Lainie. I'm an outlaw. I've lied, I've cheated, I've stolen. I've pointed guns at innocent
women and taken their money. I've killed men who probably had more right to live than I do. And none of that is the worst of my crimes."
She laughed shakily and glanced up at him. "Aren't we a lovely pair."
"We could be. Maybe . . ."
For a second it felt as if her heart had stopped. Her smile faded. She leaned toward him, drawn to his unspoken words by a powerful, intuitive force. "Maybe what?"
"Maybe together we could be more than we are separately. I know it sounds ridiculous, but . . ." He shrugged.
"It doesn't sound ridiculous."
"Maybe ... maybe this is what ordinary people feel every day, and it's just new to us."
"Is that possible?" she whispered, afraid to let herself hope.
"I don't know what's possible anymore. Do you?"
She thought about that. In the past week, she'd flown back in time, reexperienced her own past life, and kissed a figment of her own imagination . .. and liked it.
No, she didn't have a real good handle on what was possible.
"I know this, Lainie. You matter to me. And I haven't said that to a woman in fifteen years."
She reeled at the simple declaration. And I haven't heard it in a lifetime.
She pulled back slightly and squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn't look at him right now, because if she did, if she looked in his eyes and saw the emotion that matched those words, she'd lose control.
"Lainie?"
Reluctantly she opened her eyes. He gave her an un-
286
derstanding smile. "Come on, let's go to sleep. Tomorrow's gonna come awful early."
"I don't sleep much."
"Come here."
She sidled cautiously toward him and lay stiff, her breathing uneven, her fingers clenched around the sleeping bag.
He leaned down toward her, so close she could feel the soft strains of his breathing against her face. She slammed her eyes shut.
"I'm right here, Lainie. Remember that."
