Page 53 of Ballrooms & Blackmail

But he doesn’t put her back on the ground.

And he doesn’t stop washing the dishes.

I move on to packing muffins, my thoughts drifting to the empty bed, wondering if he left strictly to buy me a phone or if he left because he thought last night was a mistake.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I nearly squish the muffin I’m holding. “About you leaving?”

He jerks, nearly dislodging Violet, then steadies her with a damp hand on her back and spins to face me. “Leaving?”

Shit, I hadn’t meant to say it like that.

All accusatory and?—

“Never mind,” I say quickly, turning back to the muffins.

There’s a pause then, “Little hen,” he murmurs from right beside me. “Come here.”

I bite my lip but pluck up my courage and face him. Though I keep my gaze from his, focusing instead on the fact that Violet’s still on his shoulder, still perched like a furry little parrot.

“River,” he says softly.

I suck in a breath, force my eyes to his.

“You giving me that last night was…”

Pathetic? Weak? Lame? Dumb? Stupid?—

“…the best gift I’ve ever been given.”

My lungs expand in a rush. “Thorn,” I whisper. “I…” But I trail off. Because I don’t know what to say. Because it’s beautiful and means too much. Because?—

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks again.

This time I grasp at the change in conversation instead of blurting out something dumb. “About my nightmare?”

He nods.

“No,” I answer honestly. “I lived it. I don’t want to keep doing it over and over again.”

A flash of anger in his eyes that’s carefully banked, and he slowly lifts his hand, lightly brushes his fingers over the bandage on my cheek. “I’m so damned sorry my shit got you hurt.”

“I want to hear more about that,” I murmur. “Want to hear more about your connection with the Lyons”—now panic flares through his eyes before it’s shoved away—“but my nightmare wasn’t about the kidnapping.”

His brows drag together. “Then what?” His face smooths out. “Your ex.”

My throat goes dry.

“You never have told me his name,” he says.

“Why?” I ask. “Because you want to find him?”

The second the words leave my mouth, silence drops heavily into the kitchen.

And Thorn’s expression tells me it’s precisely for that reason.

My eyebrows fly up. “What would you do?”