Page 49 of Severed Heart

“Oh,” she says softly, indecision in her expression as she stares at the closed door just as Cypress Hill starts to bump through the entire house.

Classy, Dom.

“He’s growing up, Delphine. We all are,” I reiterate, a little too emphatically, knowing it’s pointless. Even as I try to drill that truth in, my discipline slips slightly as I take her in up close. Which proves to be a mistake. At this distance, she’s positively radiant. Even dressed in an outdated robe, with no makeup and her onyx hair twisted in a simple braid, all I can seem to do is fucking want.

Kick rocks, Jennings. She’s off-limits.

So, like yesterday and the day before, I chalk it up to curiosity and one-sided physical attraction. To wanting what I can’t and, more importantly, shouldn’t have.

Even if there was a slight curiosity in her gaze minutes ago, it’s a scarcity I’ll likely never glimpse again, and it sure as hell wasn’t sexual in nature. She’s never, not once, looked at me like that and won’t.

But as I stare back at her at the foot of the hallway—as Dom serenades Ginger with Cypress Hill—thrust in the most inappropriate and uncomfortable fucking situation imaginable, my thoughts start to go just as incongruous.

“He’s not stupid, not in that respect,” she credits Dom.

“You know, it might mean something if you gave him that backhanded compliment directly.”

“Backhand compliment?”

I grin. “A sarcastic compliment.”

“Oh,” she says, her full lips lifting slightly even as her eyes dim. “He stopped listening to me when Ezekiel left.”

“I see you trying, Delphine.” I shift to face her, crossing my arms and leaning against the wall as she takes a distancing step back. “He’s noticed. He’s just got a lot to get over.”

She gives me the slightest dip of her chin, her expression dimming further.

“I’m not saying this to guilt you, but he has noticed.”

This seems to pique her interest, adding a glimmer of hope to her eyes. “You have talked to him about this?”

“Very briefly, but yes. Thing is, you don’t or really shouldn’t try to lecture Dom about anything,” I tell her. “He gets that enough from Tobias. If you truly want his audience, question him, ask for his opinion. He’ll likely speak up then.”

She scrutinizes me. “Have you always been so observant of people?”

“Not until”—I briefly drop my gaze—“let’s just say I got a wake-up call from one of the closest people to me when I found out I didn’t know them at all.”

“Your father,” she supplies, not at all a question, but I nod anyway.

“It’s unfortunate that we have this in common, Tyler.” She holds her words briefly as if deciding whether the disclosure is worth it. “But this gift of observation will get you far with your soldiering. Though, I’m sorry for this for you, I, too, observe people and hear things in passing.”

“Becauseyou both look and listenfor them,”I counter, calling her out. It’s one of the traits I’ve learned is practiced by those who suffer from trauma. They are often the ones to analyze people closest to them, forever looking for andexpectingbad things to happen. It’s a trait we share—another commonality that I don’t put a voice to.Can’tput a voice to because she’s unaware I’m privy to some of the trauma caused by her ex-husband. “Tell you a secret?”

She nods.

“Ilook and listen, too.”

She tilts her head, examining me. That look again—as if she’s considering me, her eyes searching. I stare right back for an entirely different reason.

Get the fuck out before you embarrass yourself, Jennings.

I repeat this to myself as I slip past her, whispering a quick “I’m going to take off. Night, Delphine.”

She nods.

Exiting the house, I bounce off my sneakers to start my nightly run toward the garage while trying to shake off the self-sabotaging thoughts invading me, knowing full well she’s not going to give me a second thought tonight. That I’m utterly alone with the want starting to fester inside me. And so, I do my best to burn it off as I speed straight into the freezing wind.

Chapter Sixteen