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Did he know his name was still on my lips every night?
“Yes, I have.” The lie came out choked, and his laughter left me twisting. My cheeks heated, but survival demanded I try again. “I have.”
“Six years and you’re stillbeggingfor me.”
When my ego wanted me to snarl out, something deeper demanded I stay still. As Michael pushed away from me, as he ran his fingers through his hair, I wouldn’t let my eyes leave him. It was the same look I’d given him all those years ago, and in the quiet, Michael gave the same reaction. Any sense of his guilt was smothered with his chuckle, and preservation straightened his spine.
“You don’t want to give me the name? I’ll find it another way.”
“Michael.” His name wouldn’t bring the attention it normally did. As the man gave a final snarl, as he made his way towards the door, my injured body sprang into action. Before he could get too far, my fingers latched onto his sleeve. “Please! He’s just a kid,” I reasoned. “Please don’t hurt him.”
A sheen of disgust coated his every feature, and in a jerk, he stole himself away. That night with Josh, he hated the idea that I’d plead for someone else’s life, hated me for thinking he’d ever stoop so low. As he pulled away, I wondered if maybe the truth was even more obvious than that.
Maybe he just hated me.
