Page 11 of Wild Heart
I shook my head. “I can’t.”
“You just said you hate hospitals.”
“Yeah but… I hate even more when people die in them.”
His breath hitched, and I heard sheets rustling. His voice was low and clear when he said, “Come, sit.”
Shuffling to the end of the bed, I saw that he’d tucked his legs a little, widening them just enough that I could climb on the bed and sit crisscross between them. My hands toyed with the ends of my sweatshirt strings.
“You spend a lot of time in hospitals?”
“Not lately,” I mumbled.
Sitting like this, we were face to face. I noticed, not for the first time, how much more mature and rugged he looked than me. There was a scar hidden in his eyebrow and one across the bridge of his nose. A teeny, tiny piece of his left earlobe was missing, like something had nibbled on his flesh.
Three deep wrinkles formed in the center of his forehead as he studied me. A section of dark hair flopped over it, and I watched his fingers flick it away. Most of his head was shaved low, but there was a portion on the top he’d left long and thick.
“You’re missing your glitter.”
My chin lifted. “Wh… what?”
“Glitter.” He lifted his finger and gestured at my face. “You put glitter in the corners of your eyes. It’s missing.”
“Oh.” I swept my fingers over the spot he was talking about. “I didn’t realize you’d noticed.”
“That you’d lost your glow? Oh, Solnyshko, I noticed the second you pressed your hands to my wound.”
Oh.
My lips parted, and I ran my fingers over them. “I guess that’s your job, isn’t it? To observe or whatever?”
“I’ve always been an observer.” His lips twitched. “I can be patient when I want to be. I suppose that’s why I’m so good at my job.”
“Yeah, so good you got shot.”
His chest moved beneath his deep chuckle. “There it is.”
“Was I missing something?”
“Your fire,” he said. “Yoursun.”
“Excuse me?”
He scratched at the edge of his jaw, eyes flickering with amusement. Like he knew a secret I wasn’t good enough to know.
“Are you always this smug after being shot?”
He laughed again. “Float like a butterfly but sting like a bee. That’s you, sweetheart. Glitter around your wide eyes and polish on your nails. You treat your students like tiny treasures but lash out at their ignorant parents with a venom that burns for days.”
I… didn’t know what to say.
Hand at the base of my neck, my fingers danced along my collarbone. I cleared my suddenly tight throat. “Does Mr. Thomas know you were watching me when you should’ve been watching Toby?”
“You’re his best friend, Marcos. Watching you, learning your habits, observing the way you treat people… it was all part of the assignment.” He brought his hands together, and I stared at them with shallow breaths, remembering the way they felt over mine.
“I’m glad it was, or I might’ve missed it.”
My chest folded inward, and I placed both hands on my cheeks. Fingers curling, I clawed at my skin before shoving them through damp strands of my hair. My hood fell, and I shook my head.
