The Raven Four Books 1-3 - Jessica Sorensen Page 0,41
I’m betting he’s been to therapy for anger management issues.
He rolls his tongue in his mouth. “Yeah, I do.”
“What’s it for?” I wonder. When he makes no effort to respond, I elevate my brows. “Come on, Zay.” I mock. “I thought you weren’t scared of anything.”
“I never said that. What I said is that I want people to be scared of me, which means keeping my secrets to myself.” Then he crowds my personal space, dipping his lips toward my ear. “I’ll tell you what, though,” he whispers. “If you tell me what really happened with your parents—and I mean all the gory details—I’ll give you my therapy file.”
I fight back a shiver as I imagine what it would be like to talk about my parents’ deaths aloud. I’ve only ever done it with a therapist. It was part of the deal that was struck when I was released from the psychiatric hospital.
“Just like that?” My tone comes out even, despite the goosebumps dotting my arms.
“Just like that.” He slants back and waits for me to answer.
And man, do I want to agree to this deal. Not only over my inquisitiveness to find out more about him, but to have ammunition against him if he decides to pull another stunt like the bridge. But the idea of confessing that dark day—and I mean all the details I’ve never told anyone—makes my stomach churn.
I shake my head then pat his shoulder. “Nah, I’m good with the whole I’ll-keep-my-secrets-and-you-keep-yours thing.”
He glances at the spot on his arm where I touched him then back at me and a muscle in his jaw pulsates. “We’ll see about that.”
“Oh really? Is that a challenge?”
Surprise flickers in his eyes. It seems to be a reoccurring thing when I talk to him.
“If it is, you better be afraid,” he warns ominously. “I never lose a challenge.”
“I think I’ve already made it pretty clear that I’m not afraid of you, Zay.”
“Bullshit. You were completely afraid of me at the bridge.”
“I was mildly alarmed for a little bit, but then you jumped in that river to save me, so your scary factor went down a freakin’ ton.” As I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, the scent of the river water engulfs my nostrils.
God, I stink. I need a shower.
“Yeah, I did save your life,” he agrees. “And you never even thanked me for it.”
I roll my eyes. “You kind of owed me that since you’re the reason I was in the river at all.”
He shakes his head. “Do we really have to go over this again? We were never actually going to make you jump.”
I’m actually starting to believe him, but still … “I’ll thank you for saving me when you apologize for making me think I had to jump.”
He stares me down hard. “I don’t apologize for anything.”
“And I rarely say thank you.”
He inches toward me until the tips of his boots graze my bare feet. “You’re driving me crazy. You know that? I jump into a fucking freezing river and drag your ass out. Then I go back in to get your jacket because you wouldn’t stop whining about it. And I let you use my body heat.” He leans in until only a sliver of space is between our faces. “Do you understand how big of a deal that was for me?”
“No, because I don’t know you.” My heart is beating very hard inside my chest, but I can’t quite figure out why. Am I scared of him? No, I don’t think so. And what about what he just said? “You went back and got my jacket?” I ask, my heart tightening in my chest in a way I never felt before.
“Yeah, but only because you wouldn’t shut up about it.” He gives a short, considering pause. “Why’s it so important to you?”
I feel very strange inside, like kind of warm and gooey. “It was my mom’s. It’s pretty much the only thing I have left that belonged to her.”
“Oh.” Sympathy briefly reflects from his eyes. “I guess I’m glad I went back and got it for you then.”
The warm feeling stirring inside me is making me feel all squirrely. “Why’s that?” I ask distractedly.
He shrugs, staring at the floor. “My mom’s dead, too, so I get it … Kind of.”
I observe the way he shifts his weight and scratches his neck, as if he’s nervous. Yet, he’s acted so tough up until this point.