Page 103 of Break Point
“I’m not playing games.”
A lie.
Kind of.
Iwasplaying games, but that was yesterday. I regret the texts about Theo, sure. But that doesn’t mean I’m not mad at Henry. I’m not blind to the way he shuts me out while pretending he doesn’t, either.
Hefinallyadmitted yesterday that he’s injured but told me to “trust him” and drop it. As if he didn’t know me. I don’t drop things.
I can’t deal. And clearly, neither can he.
Not anymore.
Henry’s posture and the way his jaw works with restraint give him away. He wants me. I can see it now in the deepening blue of his gaze, in the way he studies my dress, my face, and how hard he’s trying to reel it all in. To hide his reactions. But he’s failing.
Miserably.
Finally.
And it’s still not enough. Not when we both know he’s hiding something from me. Not when he still won’t trust me with it. It makes me want to lose my mind.
“So why let him kiss you?” His voice is low and controlled but blazing on the edges. “When you knew I was standing there. Watching you.”
I can’t help but snort as a weak, nervous laugh escapes me.
“Don’t you dare laugh.” He’s using his coach voice, and it’s snapping me into automatic submission.
“You’re making me nervous,” I shoot back. “And I wasn’t aware that you were watching.”
Theo kissed me. Not the other way around. It was nothing but a calculated move that hovered too close to my lips, but I didn’t let it go any further. It wasn’t intimate or reciprocated, even if it read differently from afar.
If Henry was watching, he must’ve seen how quickly I recoiled from it. Not that the nuance matters. He saw what he saw, and he’s pissed. I’m not about to explain myself, either.
“Oh, you didn’t see me,” he says sarcastically, nearly spitting the words. “That clears everything up.”
Henry scrubs a hand down his jaw, exasperated, finally looking away and giving me a few seconds to catch my breath.
“What the hell do you want from me, Henry?”
He knows how I feel about him. It’s not like I’ve been discreet. I’ve been quiet, sure, but that’s not the same. And I’ll admit to my complete inability to hide how I react to his presence. Not since he came back.
He shakes his head and rakes his lower lip with his teeth.
Long seconds pass as he stands there, staring into my eyes, still refusing to say what I know is sitting right on the tip of his tongue. It’s like he’s starting to face how he feels, but there’s this steel wall he’s built around him. To protect himself from something invisible. And for some reason, his silence makes me feel like I’m the threat.
Maybe Iamthe threat, and if so … then so be it.
“Coward,” I mutter, turning to leave. But he catches my hands before I can escape, pulling me back in.
Something in Henry’s expression shifts. It softens. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes like he’s gathering his thoughts, like he might finally say something. At least, that’s what I’m hoping for. He doesn’t let go. Instead, he tightens his grip and slowly laces his fingers through mine, still quiet. Still unreadable, except for his eyes. They’re saying everything he won’t.
He brings my hands to his chest, right above his heart. He gives me a faint, bittersweet smile, one that answers the question I threw at him just moments ago without uttering a single word.
Our gazes lock, and I melt under the weight of his attention. Henry finally parts his lips to speak and drops my hands, taking a step back. Panic flashes across his face as his eyes fix on something just above my head.
“Henry!” Dad roars from behind me.
Shit.
