Anthony
The candle on the nightstand flickered, the flame drowning in its own melted wax, casting our shadows into giant, distorted shapes against the ceiling. But I wasn't looking at the shadows. I was looking at Myra.
She looked small in my arms, but her body was wired tight, like a bowstring about to snap. I could feel her holding her breath, her jaw locked tight as if she were trying to physically prevent herself from feeling the heat of me.
We were physically so close, and yet the past created a vast chasm between us.
"Myra," I whispered, my hand moving from her waist to the soft curve of her neck. "Talk to me. You’re a thousand miles away."
"I'm right here," she said, her voice brittle. "I'm just... calculating."
"Stop calculating." I shifted, propping myself up on one elbow so
