Marcus
She pulls back just slightly, those stormy eyes of hers narrowing in suspicion. "Where?" she asks.
I hesitate—God, I hate that I'm hesitating. But this isn't just a drive or a walk in the park. This is me. All of me. The part I've been too much of a coward to lay bare.
My hands stay on her, one resting at her waist, the other brushing softly at the small of her back—more for my own sanity than hers. I'm grounding myself with her.
"It's not far," I finally say. "But it's important."
Her expression shifts. I can see the war inside her—the instinct to run clashing against the part of her that still hasn't let go of my hand. That's the part I'm clinging to.
"What kind of place are we talking about?" she asks, suspicious, squinting at me like she expects me to pull out a ring or a death certificate.
I take a deep breath, bracing myself. "I've been keeping secrets from you."
Her face falls.
