Page 27 of How You See Me
“You’re not a fan of fun, are you?”
“Not during a mission."
“A mission?”
I lean a hip against the counter, studying him. A sadness I know all too well flickers in his eyes and deepens the lines across his forehead. I shouldn’t push, and Jordan warned me not to pry. Still, I’m curious what or who broke his heart. I want to be careful with that fractured place inside him, not poke more holes in it.
A beat of uncontented silence passes before I rescue us both.
“Did you hear that?” I slap a hand to my stomach, pretending it let out an audible growl. “Must be time to eat. Mind grabbing two plates behind you?”
He nods and moves to the cabinet, his spell broken enough for us to get back to the awkwardness and ignore the pain.
“This is amazing, truly,” I say, stabbing a fork into a chicken breast and dropping it onto my plate.
We settle onto the stools at the counter instead of the intimate table for two by the windows. This option feels less intentional and gives Hayes more room.
“Can I ask you something?” he asks suddenly after a few minutes of unbearable nothing. It takes a lot of effort for me to let the quiet linger.
“Sure.”
“Why not fly to Vegas and save yourself the hassle?”
“And you?”
He scoops a bite of casserole, his expression unreadable. “And me what?”
“Save you the hassle of playing chauffeur.” I grin, and to my surprise, he gives me one in return. Barely, but I’m counting it.
“There is that.”
I take a deep breath. “My parents died in a car crash when I was fifteen. You probably already knew that.”
“I did. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” My fingers tighten around my fork as I find the will to continue. “My dad fell asleep at the wheel after picking Mom up from her shift late one night and ran the car off the road. He had more injuries than her, so she tried to drive them to the hospital, thinking it would be quicker. They never made it.”
The fork slips from my hand, and I jump when it clangs against the porcelain plate. Fright is an easier emotion to endure than grief, so I take a moment to embrace my sprinting heart.
“Since then,” I continue to keep the pity in his eyes from ripping me in two, “I’ve had a fear of driving. Jordan’s accident only reinforced it. He almost died, too.”
“I remember,” he says, the declaration trailing off.
“Of course, you do. And I never properly thanked you for staying with him until I got there. Then, you stayed with me when you didn’t have to.”
His voice lowers. “He’s my brother. My friend. And I knew he’d worry about you more than himself. He’d have done the same for me.”
I nod, knowing it’s true. Jordan always had a soft spot in his heart for Hayes, and I hope I learn why onthis trip.
“As for flying, I used to. My ex and I would travel all over the country for his family’s business, and I’d fly home to visit Jordan.” I swallow down the fear and memories trying to steal my voice. “About two years ago, I was on a flight to Miami to meet Ryder there.”
“That’s your ex?”
“Yeah. The landing gear failed at the last second, and we skidded to a stop off the runway.” I take a sip of water to soothe my scratchy throat, remembering how I choked on smoke and fumes while screams rang out around me. “Not everyone survived.”
Hayes listens to every word, and his hand glides down my back, gentle and supporting. No interruptions, no impatience. He doesn’t try to fix anything. Just stays.
“I’m okay.” I put on a smile. “I promise I’m not as crazy as I sound.”
