Page 69 of The Pawn

When I reach up to touch him, it’s not a conscious decision. It’s those scars. He’s been wounded. Brutalized. He’s been afraid. We have that between us. We’ve both been made into victims. So when he goes to pull his shirt on over his head, I brush the tips of my fingers over one of those scars and Jet’s intake of breath is audible.

I swallow. The scar tissue beneath is rough. It healed this way. I look up at him, meeting his eyes which are narrowed, the green the deepest, darkest recesses of a forest. But he doesn’t stop me. He lets me touch him, lets me trace the scar. My heart thuds. When I slide my fingers farther, he captures my wrist and for a long moment, we stand like that.

His gaze is intent, sharp as a laser. “Be careful, Allegra,”he whispers darkly. He walks me backward to the wall, presses my arm to it, eyes searching my face, hovering over my lips. “My self-control is not infinite. Don’t think you’ll be safe if you try to use me to get to him.”

“I’m not?—”

“Don’t lie to yourself. Don’t lie to me. You told me you wanted me to be like I was that night. Well, like I told you, that’s not a one-way street.”

I look up at him, studying his features. He’s beautiful, without a doubt. But he’s not Cassian.

“All the men in my life have been liars. Have wanted something from me. I don’t want him to be one of them,” I finally say.

“Have you considered telling him that?” he asks.

“I can’t trust him.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. He’s probably one of the very few people you can trust. You should trust. He nearly lost his mind when you were gone. Do you know that?”

“He did?” I ask, trying to ignore the skip of my heart, the fluttering in my belly upon hearing the words as if I were a teenager in love.

“And, if you want my advice,” Jet starts, walking toward the door as he pulls his shirt on. “Tell him,” he says as he pulls the door open. “Because I think most of the people in his life are liars too.”

“Most of the people in whose life are liars?” Cassian asks, hand out as if just about to knock, stopping short when he sees Jet, then me.

22

CASSIAN

Jet pulls his shirt the rest of the way on, casual, like he isn’t even a little surprised to see me. Allegra on the other hand goes fromoh shit, to collecting herself, to reminding herself she’s angry. She folds her arms across her chest and glares.

“What’s going on in here?” I ask, turning from Allegra to Jet and back.

“I came to get my notebook,” Allegra says after clearing her throat.

“Is that so?” I turn to Jet who shrugs his shoulders.

“I’m as surprised as you. I’m going to get some food before the show.”

“It’s not a show. It’s my brother’s funeral,” Allegra says.

“Whatever. Excuse me.”

I put a hand on Jet’s chest, blocking him. “I’m beyond tired of having this conversation with you.”

Jet looks down at my hand, then back up at my face. Chuckles. “It’s not me you need to have the conversationwith,” he says, and shoves past me, shoulder butting mine as he goes.

I look at Allegra, noting that the ring I gave her, which she accepted, is still on her finger. That’s a good sign. I close the door behind me.

She holds the notebook between herself and me defensively, matching my forward steps backward until she’s at the wall. I stand close enough our bodies are touching. If it’s space she wants, she’s going to be disappointed.

“You made your choice,” I say.

“What are you talking about?” she asks stubbornly.

“This.” I hold her hand up to show her my ring. “I’m talking about this.”

“You lied to me.”