Page 70 of Fangs
Fucking.
Head.
“What?!”My eyes popped open with a gasp.
He froze, eyes widening. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes.”My heart was pounding. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes.”He grimaced. “I think you’ve been sending me some of your thoughts.”
“Oh my gods.” Panic surged up my throat.
“I swear I’m trying not to hear them.” He looked worried. “It just started during the firefight at the cabin. And at first, I thought I was just imagining it.”
Sending my thoughts? How was this happening? How would Istopdoing it if I didn’t know how I was doing it? My thoughts were the only thing I had that wasmine.What the fuck was I going to do about?—
I forced myself to slam a door on that thought, terrified he might hear it, my heart pounding. For a long time, we simply sat and stared at each other.
“I didn’t mean to, uh, overhear that.”He paused, and I could feel the weight of his grief. “But Trey was right.”
I looked away, pulling the towel tighter around my body.
“You know, I’d never seen him in love before. Guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that he just knew when he saw you and dove in headfirst. That’s how he did every other fuckin’ thing.”A tiny bit of amusement tangled with the sorrow in his words.
Gods, this pain felt like it might tear me apart.
“I know. Some days, I wonder if it might be possible to die from it.”
Why was it comforting to hear he hurt, too? How fucking selfish was that? I shivered hard. “Can you always hear me?”.
He started shrugging his jacket off as he answered out loud, “Not always. Seems like I have to be in the same room or at least be able to see you.”
He draped his jacket around my shoulders and pulled it shut, buttoning it for me as I worked my arms into the sleeves. The cell under the watchtower flashed through my memory again. Had I ever thanked him for that?
“Thank you for what you did under the watchtower,” I said shakily.
He glanced up as he finished buttoning his jacket around me. “I didn’t do much.”
“You did,” I whispered, and his brow furrowed. I struggled to convey what I felt. “I wouldn’t… wouldn’t have gotten through it…without you.”
“I don’t think that’s true.” He gave me a half smile. “But I’m glad it helped.”
I studied his face. His thick black hair was longer than when we’d first met. It hung in his face and had a slight wave to it. I liked it. It made him look less reserved, but in a good way. He’d let his dark stubble grow out more than usual, and the scar on his cheek disappeared into it.
“Can you hear everything I think?”
“I’m not sure.”He grinned, both dimples appearing. “Glad you like my hair, though.”
I felt my face flame hot, and my eyes narrowed into a glare.
“Less reserved, huh?” His eyes crinkled with humor. “That’spretty rich comin’ from you.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I demanded.
“It means that most of the time, I have no idea what’s goin’ on in your head.”
I crossed my arms, which were swimming in his jacket sleeves. “Well, I could say the same about you.”
