that you couldn’t see. But under my fingers, I felt the ridge and I looked up at him with what must’ve been a question on my face.
On purpose , he mouthed, but he signed too, which must be an ingrained habit. I was personally fascinated by it. And by his mouth too, which meant lip-reading certainly wasn’t a chore.
“Why?”
It’s a custom where I’m from. A good-luck charm.
“You did that?”
My friend did this one.
“But you tattoo.”
He nodded and I pointed to myself. He raised a brow and I said, “I’m sure.”
He nodded in agreement but really, he was simply humoring me. Neither of us knew how long I’d be there. And I was sure he’d get in some kind of trouble for getting close to me.
You look sad , he mouthed. Why?
“The storm’s my saving grace right now.”
Most people don’t think that way about a storm that lasts nearly twenty-four hours.
“When it’s over, then things will change. This—” I pointed between us, “—will change. And I might have to go back home and I never want to go back there, to the way things were.” I paused to take a breath. “I bet you can’t understand that.”
Don’t bet against me.
“I’m sure your friends here will have all kinds of questions for me.”
He didn’t deny that, simply said, I’ve got one for you too.
“Okay. That’s fair.”
He studied me for a few seconds, then mouthed, Who are you , Jessa?
In the past, it would’ve been so simple to answer that. I was the daughter of one of the most powerful men in the world. But I’d been fighting everything my whole life because that’s not only who I was. That’s who—what—I was supposed to be, and nothing more. Marrying Charlie to make our empire stronger during this time of political uncertainty was something that should’ve strengthened me. Instead, I was painfully aware of how much of a mistake I’d made.
“I don’t know,” I told him, my voice strangled with tears. “I really don’t know.”
Nothing wrong with that , as long as you’re willing to find out.
Was I? Did I have a choice?
Everyone has a choice.
I hadn’t realized I’d spoken out loud. “You really believe that?”
He nodded, then his hand was combing through my hair, pushing it off my shoulder, then rubbing my bare skin. My breasts were exposed—I’d never been this exposed and comforted at the same time.
If Mathias believed I had a choice, maybe it was time for me to start believing it too. This was the first day on a new path.
Tonight is our last stand
Mathias
Jessa was looking at my tattoo again and she was rubbing one of her wrists as she did so. Whether it was consciously or not, it didn’t matter. We both had scars, but the reasons for hers had to be different.
“Mine had nothing to do with a charm,” she said to me now. “Then again, I don’t believe in charms anyway. If I believed in charms, I’d have to believe in curses too.”
What do you believe in?
“I think you have to create your own destiny. Sometimes it’s hard, because you can’t always control what’s happening in your life.”
So you’re logical.
“The look on your face tells me you think that’s a dirty word.”
You need to live a little.
“Live a little?” She motioned around her and I nodded, because if you couldn’t free yourself now, you never had a shot. When I told her that, she rubbed her scars again and nodded, like she was considering it.
When I was younger , my mama used to tell me these stories—they were true stories , and they were always about fate and faith and finding your path.
“Did you?”
I’m still looking for my line in the sand. And even if I find it , who knows if there’s a time I’d need to cross it.
“I grew up with logic. That was what my parents expected of me.”
So you don’t believe in fate either?
“I don’t think so.”
I think you’re lying to yourself.
She blinked at me and said, “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
Killing me
On purpose , he mouthed, but he signed too, which must be an ingrained habit. I was personally fascinated by it. And by his mouth too, which meant lip-reading certainly wasn’t a chore.
“Why?”
It’s a custom where I’m from. A good-luck charm.
“You did that?”
My friend did this one.
“But you tattoo.”
He nodded and I pointed to myself. He raised a brow and I said, “I’m sure.”
He nodded in agreement but really, he was simply humoring me. Neither of us knew how long I’d be there. And I was sure he’d get in some kind of trouble for getting close to me.
You look sad , he mouthed. Why?
“The storm’s my saving grace right now.”
Most people don’t think that way about a storm that lasts nearly twenty-four hours.
“When it’s over, then things will change. This—” I pointed between us, “—will change. And I might have to go back home and I never want to go back there, to the way things were.” I paused to take a breath. “I bet you can’t understand that.”
Don’t bet against me.
“I’m sure your friends here will have all kinds of questions for me.”
He didn’t deny that, simply said, I’ve got one for you too.
“Okay. That’s fair.”
He studied me for a few seconds, then mouthed, Who are you , Jessa?
In the past, it would’ve been so simple to answer that. I was the daughter of one of the most powerful men in the world. But I’d been fighting everything my whole life because that’s not only who I was. That’s who—what—I was supposed to be, and nothing more. Marrying Charlie to make our empire stronger during this time of political uncertainty was something that should’ve strengthened me. Instead, I was painfully aware of how much of a mistake I’d made.
“I don’t know,” I told him, my voice strangled with tears. “I really don’t know.”
Nothing wrong with that , as long as you’re willing to find out.
Was I? Did I have a choice?
Everyone has a choice.
I hadn’t realized I’d spoken out loud. “You really believe that?”
He nodded, then his hand was combing through my hair, pushing it off my shoulder, then rubbing my bare skin. My breasts were exposed—I’d never been this exposed and comforted at the same time.
If Mathias believed I had a choice, maybe it was time for me to start believing it too. This was the first day on a new path.
Tonight is our last stand
Mathias
Jessa was looking at my tattoo again and she was rubbing one of her wrists as she did so. Whether it was consciously or not, it didn’t matter. We both had scars, but the reasons for hers had to be different.
“Mine had nothing to do with a charm,” she said to me now. “Then again, I don’t believe in charms anyway. If I believed in charms, I’d have to believe in curses too.”
What do you believe in?
“I think you have to create your own destiny. Sometimes it’s hard, because you can’t always control what’s happening in your life.”
So you’re logical.
“The look on your face tells me you think that’s a dirty word.”
You need to live a little.
“Live a little?” She motioned around her and I nodded, because if you couldn’t free yourself now, you never had a shot. When I told her that, she rubbed her scars again and nodded, like she was considering it.
When I was younger , my mama used to tell me these stories—they were true stories , and they were always about fate and faith and finding your path.
“Did you?”
I’m still looking for my line in the sand. And even if I find it , who knows if there’s a time I’d need to cross it.
“I grew up with logic. That was what my parents expected of me.”
So you don’t believe in fate either?
“I don’t think so.”
I think you’re lying to yourself.
She blinked at me and said, “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
Killing me
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