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“Thanks,” I say.
A heat creeps up my neck and onto my cheeks. This isn't me. I'm not a crier. Not without being provoked. But there's something about Sheppard Mondelli that pulls at my heartstrings. A familiarity, I guess. Even though I should be the one consoling him.
He nods, cupping my cheeks. His head cocks. Almost as if he's silently asking me if I'm okay.
The answer is always no. I'm never truly okay. I'm just the shell of a girl hiding behind my darkness, doing what she had to do to survive.
Like being here in the Devils’ midst. They kidnapped me. My monster wants me to spy.
I'm surviving.
“I'll be okay. I don't even know why that happened,” I try to laugh it off, but he doesn't let it go.
He holds up a finger. Then scribbles a note.
It'll be our little secret.
I grin at his words. He must sense the trepidation twisting inside me.
“Good. I can't have Jericho knowing I've gone soft,” I quip.
It's amusing how you rile him up.
Another note says, appearing before my eyes.
I grin. “It's my specialty. How else can I keep him in line?” I quirk a brow when he chuckles. Really chuckles. Showing off his deep voice vibrating in his chest.
My fingers spread over his solid chest, taking in the definition beneath his shirt. He's stacked. With every swipe of my hand, he twitches under my touch.
“You talked to me yesterday,” I whisper.
Run, Little Tempest.
His deep voice rolls through my brain again on repeat. In my fear, I memorized everything that happened to me. In case it wasn't the guys, I had to escape and relay it back to whomever I could find.
His large hand engulfs mine, stopping my perusal. He swallows hard, staring deep into my soul.
He nods.
I lick my lips. “So, you can speak?” Dumb question, Journey. Obviously, he can. He just chooses not to. For some reason, I want to unravel.
He nods again, squeezing my hand without answering the question.
“Is it… You don't speak to them, do you?”
He shakes his head and squeezes his eyes closed. With reluctance, he lets go of me and grabs his notepad again, scribbling words.
With a sigh, he hands over the note.
I can't explain why.
Is all it says. So simple. Yet, telling.
“Am I special?” I quip, wiggling my brows.
A large grin spreads across his face, and he nods again, scribbling a note.
More than special.
