Page 47 of The Dead Don't Talk
Well, fuck.
When he says it like that, it makes that thing beating in my chest pump faster.
And that is why I’m nervous.
“I don’t do relationships, kitten.”
It’s … forbidden. Ingrained in my soul that me being with someone else is an absoluteno, or else they’ll be taken away from me. The concept offoreveris tainted and my history is it’s proof.
“Yeah, okay,” he drags out like he’s unconvinced, and swings the arm he’s got connected to Wilson as they walk.
It still kind of stings to see. To feel like I shouldn’t get to do what they’re doing.
It wouldn’t be fair to Amo if I did. Right?
But that means that I haven’t been fair to Wilson all this time either.
He was with me. Stayed with me, even when the frenzy took over me. Even when I broke his bones and used his body and still didn’t give him anything more than my presence.
He didn’t have to stay in the storm to save me, but he did.
My gut churns violently as I watch the back of his head bounce and bobble in admiration and contentment to whatever Amo is going on about.
Doesn’t that prove my point?
I choose to stay in the back. To not listen. Refuse to hold hands with them and never kiss—
“You okay, boss?”
I swallow hard, forcing my breathing to slow—when did it even get so fast?—and nod.
“Yeah,” I say and it’s raspy as fuck, embarrassing. “All good.”
The worry clouding Wilson’s gaze is so distracting that I run into Amo and make him yelp in surprise.
“Shit, sorry, kitten.”
He lets go of Wilson and turns into me, palms flattening over my pecs. They’re warm and I can’t deny that I kind of fucking like it.
“You don’t look okay. If you don’t wanna do this, you don’t have to.”
I stare into his wide hazel eyes. “That would make me a selfish fuck.”
Wilson’s snort is what makes me realize I said that out loud instead of in my head like I intended and my gut twists even more.
But looking down into Amo’s shiny gaze almost makes me forget that I’m notthat guy.Like maybe I could be. For him?
For them?
“It’s okay to be selfish sometimes,” Amo says just above a whisper, though it feels like he yelled it, and Wilson steps closer. Grips my shoulder.
“Are you assholes sure about this? I mean…” It suddenly feels like there’s a rock lodged in my throat, but I push the words out past it as I glance between the two of them. “About me?”
Amo’s eyes water but his lips spread into a grin, and his cheeks go pink.
I like that look on him. Too much.
“Don’t be a dipshit,” he murmurs with an affectionate edge that’s hard to understand and pats my chest. It’s almost condescending and makes my insides feel all fuzzy and shit.
