“I’m okay.”
He cocked his head as if considering my words, and I gave him bonus points for not calling me a damn liar. He crossed to me without another word, then held the mug out for me. I took it, my fingers brushing over his as I closed my hands around the warm ceramic. Our eyes met, and I felt the flash of a connection shoot through me. Real and solid and unmistakable.
And nothing more now than a missed opportunity.
The heat I’d seen in his eyes was banked now, replaced instead by affection and concern. But I didn’t want affection. I wanted the fire back, and I wanted it hot enough to burn away my memories—of tonight, and of eight years ago.
“Tell me,” he said, settling down on the couch next to me.
I was sitting cross-legged with a pillow in my lap and the afghan draped loosely over me. His thigh brushed against my knee, and that single point of contact was the only part of my entire body of which I was aware. It was hard to concentrate on his question, and I knew that I needed to. I had a feeling that despite my usual reticence, I would say things around Evan that I shouldn’t, and just because I wanted to fuck him didn’t mean that I wanted to trust him. Not with everything. Not with that.
I took a sip of the cocoa, then looked up at him in delighted pleasure. “You added peppermint schnapps.”
“You once said you like it that way.”
I blinked, surprised. I’d spent one Christmas at Jahn’s house with my parents. Evan and Cole and Tyler had come over one evening, along with the students who were in Jahn’s seminar that year and a few of the neighbors. Jahn had served cocoa with peppermint schnapps. It was the first time I’d ever tasted it, and I’d thought that if heaven had specialty drinks, that would certainly be on the list. “You remember that?”
His eyes never left my face. “I remember a lot of things.”
“Oh.” I looked down, suddenly self-conscious, and took a long sip of the drink, relishing the way it eased down my throat, warming me from the inside out.
“Angie,” he said gently. “Who hurt you?”
I looked back up sharply as I realized what he thought. That I’d been the victim. That I was having flashbacks of some horrible attack.
I laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “I did.”
If I’d been trying to shock him, I’d failed. He didn’t move or flinch. There was no surprise on his face. Only compassion.
“Tell me,” he ordered. “I can help.”
“I’m not asking for help.”
“No, you’re not.” He twisted a lock of my hair around his finger. I waited for him to say something else, but no words came. He just sat there with me until I couldn’t take the weight of the silence any longer.
“You never met Gracie,” I said, the words sounding almost like an accusation.
“No, but Jahn told me about her.”
“That she died?” I said, with more venom than I intended.
“That she was a wonderful girl that he loved very much. That he missed her. That you all missed her.”
I nodded, fighting the knot of tears that was forming in my throat. “I miss her every day.” I drew in a breath to steel myself. “Did he tell you how she died?”
“No. And we never asked. Angie,” he said. “I’m asking now. Was she attacked? Was it in an alley?”
He reached over and carefully took the cup out of my hands. Only then did I realize it had been shaking, the cocoa sloshing over the sides to land on the silk of my dress, leaving it dotted with puckered wet spots.
“It’s okay,” Evan said, and I knew he wasn’t talking about the dress.