I winced, because the second the words were out of my mouth, I knew I’d said too much. Shit.
I turned back to the glass and looked out over the world. I didn’t turn when I heard him move up beside me, taking his own position at the barrier. For the first time I could remember, in fact, I wanted Evan Black to just go away.
“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was low and level, and I liked the way it felt inside my head. I didn’t turn, though. I wasn’t sure if he was sorry for my loss or apologizing for his words, and if it was the former, I really didn’t want to know.
“So why are you here?” I finally asked, my back still toward him. “Did you track me down to give me more grief about the guy I’m dating?”
“Believe it or not, I don’t spend that much time thinking about Kevin Warner.”
I turned, my brow raised in question. “No? Because in the kitchen earlier he sure seemed to be on your mind.”
“Not Kevin,” he said simply. “You.”
“Oh.” I swallowed, liking the sound of that word on his lips. You.
For a moment, silence hung between us. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what he wanted. I didn’t know what he was doing there or what was going on between us, or if anything even was going on between us. I waited for him to speak, but he seemed content to let the silence continue. He was doing nothing more than standing there, and yet I felt suddenly trapped, as if he’d captured me in that firm and unwavering gaze.
In desperation, I finally managed to form a sentence. “You’re wrong,” I finally said, looking down at my fingernails so that I wouldn’t have to see his face. “I’m not strong at all.” I thought of how much I wanted to escape this day. Of how much I wanted my uncle back. Of how desperately I wanted to cry, and of how hard I was having to work to keep all that grief bottled up inside.
Mostly, I thought of how certain I was that I wouldn’t make it through the night. That no matter how hard I tried, in the end the explosion would come and somehow, someway, everything I’d wrapped up tight would come completely unraveled.
“You are. I’ve watched you,” he said firmly. “Over the years, I mean. You keep yourself under tight control, Angie. That takes a lot of strength.”
I fervently wished that what he saw was true. It wasn’t, of course. I’d been trying for years to keep myself under control, but the tighter I grasped, the more pieces of me seem to break free.
Stifling a sigh, I turned away again to look out at Lake Michigan and the boats that were now nothing more than tiny points of lights in the distance. “You must not have been watching too closely,” I said.
“On the contrary,” he said, his voice low and even and so intense it seemed to erase all my protests even before I could voice them. “I paid a great deal of attention. I always do when something matters to me.”
“Oh.” My voice felt small and breathy.
From his position beside me, he hooked a finger under my chin and turned my head to meet his eyes. Heat from the contact shot through me, and I half-wondered if I’d see a burn mark there the next time I looked in the mirror.
He moved his hand away, and I wanted to cry out in protest. “Trust me on this, Lina. I know all about control.”
I swallowed. I wasn’t entirely sure I knew what we were talking about. And I sure as hell didn’t know why he called me by my old nickname, but to my surprise, I found myself liking it. I liked even more the way that he was looking at me. I think I could have stood there forever, the city and lake below and the night sky above and this enigmatic man only inches from me.
His lips began to move, and I thought that he had a beautiful mouth. “It’s not a weakness to want to let go,” he said. “To want the thrill of taking a risk. The pleasure of feeling the rush.”