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June’s fingers float up to stroke it the same way I did. “Oh. That. It’s… it’s not a big deal.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Bar fight? I should see the other guy?”
She smiles. “No. Not quite.”
The truth hits me like a bolt of lightning. I grit my teeth and look down in my lap to make sure she can’t see the burning anger flit across my eyes. I only look up again when I’m in reasonable control of my face.
“My brother.”
She exhales sadly. “It was a long time ago.”
“Tell me.”
“It was the second time he fell off the wagon,” she explains, gazing out into the distance. “It was also the longest time he went without a drink. After we both realized he had a problem, that is. He’d collected his three-month chip.” Her voice is drenched with disappointment. “We were supposed to meet at this restaurant downtown after work, only Adrian didn’t show up. I called him a bunch of times, but he didn’t answer. So I just gave up and went home. And that’s where I found him. Face down in the shower with the water running. He stunk of vomit and cheap booze. From the smell of him, I guessed he’d been drinking for hours.”
She stops for a moment, like the weight of the memory is too heavy for her to keep going. Then she waves off her pain. “Anyway, long story short, I got him half-conscious and into our bedroom. He started talking on the way to the bed. He was dreaming, or maybe he was just remembering something; I’m not sure. But he wasn’t really aware of where he was. I managed to get him on the bed, and I was checking the bruise on his head, when he started screaming at me not to hurt him. I tried to calm him down but it was like he couldn’t hear me. That’s when he… he… grabbed me.”
“He tried to strangle you?” I ask softly.
She frowns. “It wasn’t nearly so dramatic. He was seeing things, he was scared, he thought he was protecting himself. And then I screamed and he snapped out of it. He begged me to forgive him. He didn’t mean to hurt me.”
“Is that what he told you every time he hurt you?”
Her jaw clenches. “You don’t understand,” she mumbles, dismissing the conversation completely. “And now, it’s raining.”
I turn my face up to the sky and feel a raindrop land on my cheek. “Make room,” I tell her, moving against the trunk of the tree she’s resting against.
We’re shoulder to shoulder now. Inconvenient. It almost makes me want to brave the rain to reinstate some distance.
Then she meets my eyes, and I meet hers. And our gazes sort of… stick. Her lips part ever so slightly, and I can see her cheeks redden. But she doesn’t avert her gaze.
And then, just when I think I’m past the point where people can surprise me… she leans in.
The moment that follows lasts damn near forever. Her lips are parted just enough for me to see that jagged sliver of blackness. To smell the sweetness of her breath, suffused with the oncoming rain. It’s floral and wild and in that forever moment, I drown myself in how much I want her. It’s wrong—she’s not yours, she’s never been yours, she was never meant to be yours—for me and for her alike, but fuck, I want her so goddamn bad I can’t bear it.
Then the moment passes.
Maybe that’s for the best.
Because I don’t deserve anything anywhere near as pure as her.
* * *
June checks her phone the minute we get back to the hotel, but it’s more like she wants an excuse not to look at me.
“Any word from Geneva?”
“No,” she says, putting the phone down. “She’s probably just busy.”
“You’re very good at making excuses for other people. Did you know that?”
She turns to me with a frown. “Why did you take me on that hike today?” she demands suddenly, her eyebrows knotting together with irritation.
“Dr. Calloway—”
“You already told me what she said,” she snaps, cutting me off. “But you could have sent me on that hike alone. Or with one of your goons. You didn’t need to come with me.”
I keep my tone carefully detached and uncaring. “If you didn’t want me there, you could have just said so.”
