Page 166 of Shadowman

I could not possibly feel more special…Or more undeserving.

“How to behave around people, I guess,” Byron finally answers. “Like, I think if I met someone whowasn’tcrazy or dangerous, I wouldn’t know how to act.”

I chuckle. “That just makes you sound fun and interesting.”

He grins, but bites it away. “Even just this, though… Walking aroundfree. I can’t help feeling like I’m doing something wrong, just forwalkingwithout chains on, or supervision. Isn’t that crazy?”

“It’s certainly messed up,” I mutter.

“A few weeks before you got here, I had a cellphone,” he tells me. “O’Malley got it taken away being a hot-head idiot, as usual. But when I still had it, I stared at the thing for like ten minutes. Blankly. Just trying to remember what the hell to evendowith one…”

“I was never a fan of smartphones,” I remark casually. “I used the one at my flat more than anything.”

Byron stops and gapes at me for a moment. “You mean, like a… landline?”

I grin at the look of appall he’s giving me. “Sure. We can call it that.”

He blinks a few times, seemingly mortified. But then a laugh bubbles out of him, and I think it’s the first time I’ve ever actually heard himlaugh. Not one of his rumbly little chuckles, or a puff of mild amusement. An honest to God haughtychortle.

It may be the greatest sound I’ve ever heard in my entire life.

And how delicious does he look when he’s doing it… My God. Be still, my rotten little heart.

“You really are a freaking weirdo, you know that?” He sighs out his laughter, smile still resting comfortably on his pillowed lips.

“Why thank you,” I jeer, and he peeks at me, a bit more flirtatious this time.

“I like it,” he whispers, breeding butterflies in my stomach. “So you… what? Went to libraries and pulled out the Encyclopedia instead of just Googling things?”

He smirks, and now it’s my turn to give him a look. “I never said I didn’thavea smartphone. Of course I did. I used it forTinder.” He laughs again.Fucking hell, I’m going to collapse.“And DoorDash.”

“Mmm… Too bad you lived in Atlanta,” he rasps. “If you were still in New York, I could have delivered you your Sunday Roast.”

“Ohhh,wow,” I croon and chuckle, to which he beams with pride. “Look who knows what things are called in England.”

His grin widens. “Ihavebeen there before, after all. Two whole times.”

“Well, I’m glad one of us has happy memories of London…” I sigh, then balk at the way that just tumbled out.

I can feel him looking at me as he asks softly, “You don’t?”

Glancing at him, I take a moment to consider what to say. “No, I’m sure Ido… It’s just that my home life wasn’t… the best.”

In fact, it was the absolute worst.

Byron looks enamored by the details I’m sharing, like measly scraps being tossed to a starving animal. I have to swallow down the guilt, and it tastes horrendous.

He wants more…

But he doesn’t press. Simply gives me a nod of empathy, which has me wondering if maybe hedoesn’tcare whether I open up to him or not.

He wants this to remain casual. And that’s what you should want too…

Anything deeper won’t work, for either of you.

Brushing off the festering doubt and insecurity, I ask, “What about you? Were your parents wankers?”

His mouth forms a line. “They weren’t that bad. They just… didn’t care. They didn’t understand me, and they didn’t want to.” He goes quiet for a moment, in thought. “When I was younger, my father used to make me stand in the corner. If I was acting out, or if I’d gotten bad grades in school… He would literally make me stand still in the corner of the room, completely silent. I’d be watching them having dinner, watching TV… chatting andlaughing. They would just go about their lives with mestandingthere. As if I didn’t even exist. I was invisible to them… It was so easy for them not to see me.”