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“When you answer my question, I might be able to say yes,” I finally said.
“What’s your question?” she asked.
“Are you going to keep your mouth shut?”
She looked at me, and I could clearly read her thoughts. She was struggling, torn, and I hated to see her that way.
But I knew the necessity of it.
Still, I couldn’t push her to answer when I needed her to speak truthfully and for herself.
“I’ll think about it,” she finally said.
“Fine. Play coy if you want to,but remember there are consequences,” I said.
Her expression changed, and I knew she was remembering the gun.
Didn’t like it but knew there was no alternative. She stood, walked over to the front door and leaned against the wall.
I found myself following.
When I looked at her face, there was emotion in her eyes, sadness that I desperately wanted to take away.
On instinct, I lifted my hand and cupped her cheek, and to my surprise, she turned into the touch.
I found myself drifting closer, then closer, until mere inches separated us.
My gaze was drawn to her mouth, and for the first time I noticed how soft her full lips looked and was almost overcome by the need to taste them.
Ring.
She flinched at the sound, the phone intruding loudly on our silence, then shrank away from me.
“I need to answer that,” she said hurriedly.
“Think carefully about your answer, Amethyst,” I said.
Then I left, needing to get away from her before I did something I desperately wanted to but knew I would regret.
