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“I’m sorry.”
My heart was melting with each new word he was saying. He was being kind and even a little gentle with me.
I looked down at our hands. His were big and strong, swallowing mine up, but they felt like a perfect fit. A lump formed in my throat at the sight, at the feeling sweeping through me. “We’re holding-hands friends now?”
“Who said we’re friends?”
But he was teasing. I shot him a look. “Detective Worthing got us out of there.”
“I know.”
“He said he did it because of me.”
His head inclined forward; he was studying me a little more intensely than normal. “What if I told you that he might have a thing for you? How would you feel about that?”
I looked down, playing with our fingers. My free hand tracing over his linked fingers. “I don’t know. Never liked cops, so that would make me feel odd. I guess.”
His attention was so heavy, but not in a bad way—in an uncomfortable way, because I was feeling he could see stuff in me that even I didn’t know was there.
“I have a mission, a new one in life.”
“What is it?”
“It hit me earlier, when I was waiting in the police place. It suddenly came to me. All this stuff happening to me, there’s gotta be a reason. Right?”
He didn’t respond. He was frowning.
I kept on. “And there’s issues between you and Jess. Right?”
His frown just deepened.
“So, like, in groups there are roles. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
“No idea.”
Right. That wouldn’t deter me. “Well. Okay. There are. There are roles. There’s the thinker. There’s the doer. And then there’s the in-between people. I’m the in-between person. You’re a doer. Jess is a doer. Trace is the thinker. I mean, you’re a thinker, too, but you’re mostly a doer. I kinda think that’s why you and Jess don’t get along. You guys are both competing for the same role in the group. But me and Trace. We don’t compete. No one else is our—well; you’re a thinker, but again. You’re more—”
“Doer. Yes.” He was watching me with a strange expression. “All this came to you when you were at the police station?”
I nodded, then shrugged and leaned back against the seat. “I keep getting into situations where there are guns pointed at my head or bombs exploding my door. If this all had happened before you, I would’ve blamed my dad. Shorty Easter. And yeah, there’s an argument that could be made that this is all because of my dad, but my cousin. There was a dead guy at my cousin’s apartment. Who was the dead guy?”
“A guy that heard your cousin’s apartment was open, so he crashed there. The guy who killed him was the guy you beat up. He works for Nicolai Worthing, so we know Worthing is sending people after you. He sent a man after your cousin.”
“Wait. What? I thought you said there was a ceasefire.”
He lifted a hand and cupped the side of my face. His thumb rubbed over my face, so gentle, matching his tone. “I don’t think there was ever a ceasefire.”
“Oh.” And the lump kept growing in size.
His hand dropped to my hand, and he laced our fingers together. “I’m still interested in hearing about the roles in our group. It sounds interesting.”
Maybe I was wrong about it all. “It’s all because of my dad?”
“I think this particular bad string of luck, yes. It was kicked off by your dad, but Molly.” He leaned forward, inclining his head.
I lifted my head up to see how soft his eyes were watching me back.
“If you are saying that you’re an in-between, and you could help fix the issues between Jess and me, then I’m going to say that I don’t think another person could get better results than you.”
“Are you serious?” My throat swelled up. My heart began beating so fast.
He nodded. “I think your idea makes perfect sense. You’re the glue.”
“I’m like added sealant.”
“That too.” His lips quirked.
Right on. I was still in a good mood, and I didn’t want to think about the bad stuff that just happened, that seemed to always happen to me. “Can we do something fun tonight? Can we forget, for one night, about everything going on?”
I lifted my head, waiting for his answer.
He was looking so intensely at me. He nodded. “We can do that. What do you want to do?”
I shook my head. “The last time I really took a night off, I went to the hockey game, and then we went to Octavia. What about Katya? You own it, right? Can we go there and just, just be there?”
He leaned over, reaching up, and a finger traced a strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear. A tingle followed in his trail. I found myself waiting, holding my breath, warmth spreading all over my body. The fuzzies were in a flurry.
