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Kastle doesn't respond.
What can he say? I’m sorry two masked men abducted you when you were seven. I’m sorry they grabbed you by the neck, slapped a hand over your mouth and dragged you kicking and screaming into the van.
I’m sorry you were gagged.
I’m sorry you were used as ransom.
I’m sorry the police didn’t find you for fourteen hours.
I’m sorry you’ll never get over it.
Kastle cups the back of my neck and places a gentle kiss on my forehead. “That’s okay.”
“Is it?” I stare into his eyes. “I’m a wimp.”
“You’re a survivor.”
“It’s been years.”
“The scars you get as a child are the hardest to heal sometimes.” His own eyes flicker with pain.
He knows.
He’s been through his own version of hell.
I cup his hands in mine. Feel his pain as it wraps around my heart. Feel his desperation to be there for me. To be everything to me. “I’m glad you’re my friend, Kastle.”
“I’m glad you’re mine.” His thumb caresses my wrist. Over my knuckles. Down to my palm. “So, so glad, Kae.”
My heart stirs.
Wild, powerful emotions thrum through my body.
We’re here, in the place where we’d sneak off to and meet at night when Kastle needed air.
When I needed Kastle.
When we needed each other.
But we’re not kids anymore.
The air between us turns tense.
Quiet.
Full.
Sizzles with the promise of more.
Dangerous.
Tempting.
I reach out and rub my thumb against his bottom lip as electrical currents shock me to my core. “You think we can do this?”
“What?” he whispers.
“Pretend. We’ve never—you think it’ll be weird? Acting like we… like we’re more than friends?”
