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“Tigrenok. . .”
“You have a father to debrief,” I breathed, opening the door quickly to distance myself from any unwanted questions. My heart lurched with the way in which his voice caressed the name that he had given me, the name inked upon my wrist like a flashing neon sign . . . or a brand.
Once a mark of the trust between us, it was now a permanent reminder of all the words I couldn’t say to him.
I could see his expression wavering, torn between his duties and wanting to find out what I wasn’t telling him. The emotion, for once, was easy to read on his features. I reached out and brushed my fingers softly down the side of his face, forcing a smile that felt as fake as it no doubt looked.
“We can talk later,” I promised. I didn’t know if I even meant it, at least not sincerely. But I said it anyway, both to feel some sort of emotion and to fend off his inquisitive stare. It was as if I was suddenly spun glass and he was waiting for me to shatter.
I wondered if that wasn’t an apt description, with things the way that they were.
“You will tell me what all of this is about?” He asked the question evenly, waving his hand to indicate my entire body, and I knew that he meant my weirdness.
I nodded, knowing it for the lie it was even as I did so. That seemed more convincing than my failed attempt at a smile before, and a look of relief moved within those azure eyes as he opened his door.
I didn’t exhale until it had shut behind him. As he made his way around the car, I fought to hold my mask in place, steeling myself for what was to come. He opened my door, and I took his hand, reminding myself that the gun tucked into the waistline of my skirt wasn’t meant to be triggered here.
