“Skipped brunch,” I rasped. “Remember?”
He looked to the side, brow furrowing. “I should have brought you something.”
That’s when I noticed his hand was bandaged. I gasped, grabbing it. “What happened to your hand?”
It was a moment before he responded. He just stared at me, a look in his eyes that had me holding my breath.
Finally he said, “I guess I held on when I should’ve let go.” Before I could think on that, he continued, “Did you get the clothes you needed?”
I nodded.
“A husband should take care of his wife.” He said it more to himself than me.
I swallowed, throat suddenly thick. He kept staring at me with an intensity I couldn’t read, never taking his hand off my forehead, thumbing the skin in a way that made my heart stutter.
“Did you ever start writing poetry, Snitch?” he asked quietly.
I thought to my secret letters.
I wanted to tell him. He was the only one I ever told anything.
But the miles of distance between us were too wide to cross.
“Um…no.”
His mood turned dark. “Just be a fucking poet, Snitch.”
“Oh, it’s that simple?” I snapped back.
He leaned closer, glare sharp. “Yeah, it is.”
I scoffed. “I could suck, you know? You could be encouraging suckage. You’ve never even read anything I’ve written.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said instantly, matter-of-factly.
I looked away, folding my arms. “It’s kind of the only thing that matters, Grayson.”
He went silent in the way I knew meant words were running through his mind. I couldn’t read them now, but I wanted so badly to know them.
“I already know the world should listen to you,” he said. “How you say it is irrelevant
.”
My eyes cut to his, breath froze in my chest as the door opened behind him. This time it was the doctor. Grayson stepped away, but he kept his hand above my head, gripping the examination chair as she put my legs in stirrups.
“Oh, what’s this?” Her pointer finger glanced Grayson’s bite, and her head lifted above my legs, eyes finding mine.
My cheeks flared. I heard Grayson’s fingers above mine curl in the leather.
Do you like the idea of cheating on your husband?
I coughed. “I…um….”
This is fucking mine.
I scratched my head, refusing to look at Grayson, having no way to find an answer.
Let him touch you. He’ll see, Snitch. You’re mine. You will always be mine.