Atticus kept sneaking a peek at me, his gaze flipping toward me all through breakfast. I’d returned with him days ago, and his behavior had been similar since I’d taken his hand—always watching like he thinks I’m going to disappear.
“What?”
His brow furrowed. “You promise that you’ll stay? That if you leave, it is with Michael and you will return with him?”
I reached out and placed my hand on his, giving him a comforting smile. “I promise.”
I bit down on my bottom lip as he returned to reading something on his tablet. With as closed off as he was emotionally, I had to admit I liked seeing the almost desperate desire for me.
Maybe not the kind of desire that set me on fire, but the desire for me on another level, one that would make the next five years a lot easier on us both if it con
