Page 162 of This Life of Mine
“Come here,” he murmurs.
As if I wasn’t already trying. As if every instinct I possess wasn’t already pulling me closer.
The world seems to tilt. And suddenly the hallway, the house, the entire world beyond these walls feels impossibly far away.
We move together without thinking, drawn by something neither of us wants to fight. The tension that’s been building snaps.
A laugh escapes me as we make our way down the hallway, neither of us particularly successful at pretending we’re focused on anything else.
The moment we find the room, I see a chair wrapped in black. And that’s when I see it.
At first, I think it’s laundry. Then my brain catches up. Black tactical clothing. Body armor. Gloves. And resting on top…a helmet? No…a mask.
I stop walking. “Umm…what’s that?”
Alex goes completely still behind me.
The silence is so immediate it practically has its own sound.
I study the chair’s contents. Then I force myself to turn around.
“Alex?”
Nothing.
His eyes close briefly. “Shit.”
I blink in surprise.
He rubs a hand across his face before meeting my stare. “That’s just my…gear.”
I stare at the gear before turning to face Alex, smiling as I register its purpose.
“I should put it away,” he says.
A laugh escapes me. “Did I just accidentally discover your vigilante suit?”
His head drops back and he groans.
“Oh my God, I did.” I point at the mask.
“Lina...” His face says everything. He’s been caught.
“You have a whole secret identity, don’t you?”
He remains quiet, his jaw ticking.
“You absolutely do. You have tactical gear and a mysteriously intimidating black mask sittingdramaticallyon that chair.”
“How is it dramatically sitting on the chair?” He asks, crossing his arms.
“It’s literally spotlighted by the lamp.” I point.
He glances toward the lamp. “...that’s interesting.”
I laugh uncontrollably at this point. Because suddenly so many things make sense.
The way he’d once told me that in his line of work, it was better if people didn’t know who he was.
