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“That isn't even funny, Demitri.”
“I wasn't joking.”
I looked away. He sighed softly.
“I know when to put my big-boy pants on, Adriana.”
I stared at him.
He reached across the table and turned my hand over.
His fingers brushed mine carefully, avoiding the bandages around my wrists.
“You're allowed to laugh,” he said. “You're allowed to cry. You're allowed to be angry. You're allowed to be frightened.”
His thumb moved slowly across my knuckles.
“And you're allowed to lean on someone when you can't carry it yourself.”
My throat tightened as I looked down at our hands.
Something deep inside me shifted.
I had spent days feeling as though I were falling through the ruins of my own life, grabbing at anything I could find to keep myself from disappearing completely.
Demitri hadn't promised to fix it. He hadn't promised that everything would be okay. He had simply put himself between me and the worst of it. And somehow, that meant more.
“I don't understand you,” I whispered.
“Why do you need to?”
I shrugged.
His thumb stopped moving. He looked away. For the first time, I wondered what he was hiding behind all that control.
“What happened to you?” I asked.
His eyes returned to mine. There was something guarded and old there.
“That's a conversation for another day.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
He looked almost surprised that I hadn't pushed.
“Another day, then.”
His gaze dropped to where our hands were joined. Then he looked back at me. Neither of us let go. The moment stretched between us, quiet and strangely intimate.
Then the sound of engines tore through the night.
Demitri's entire body went still. I followed his gaze as his eyes snapped toward the windows.
Headlights swept across the glass. One set. Then another. Then another, as a convoy of cars came tearing into the rest stop.
My fingers tightened around his. His hand closed around mine. The softness vanished from his face. And I knew whatever came next would change everything.
The roar of engines drew every face towards the windows. The cars entered the car park without slowing, moving in tight formation, tyres slicing across the asphalt.
