Skin Heat (41 page)

“So you think it’s permanent damage . . . those memories are just gone.”

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I don’t think I lost anything worth keeping.”

In self-defense, Gillie went to the bathroom; they had been making do at gas stations, but she needed to sponge off. Fortunately, she found paper towels and hand soap, which allowed her to do a decent job. After she finished in the stall, she finger-combed her red curls, pulled her hood back up, and then went out to join him, once she was sure she could offer a neutral face. Just as she didn’t want his pity, she knew he wouldn’t allow that from her, either, even if his truths threatened to tug the heart from her body.

Taye had a soda waiting for her and a couple of peanut butter sandwiches. By the look of him, he’d cleaned up a little, too, wiped away the grubbiness from his face, at least, and that left his eyes more brilliant in contrast with his dark hood. He had a roguish wanderer’s charm, like she imagined gypsies used to be. He wasn’t a stick-around-forever guy; he was a steal-your-heart-and-run-off-into-the-night man.

“Feel better . . . Clare?”

Gillie laughed softly. Yeah. She did, actually. It would be better once they actually got on the bus, wheels moving. She couldn’t remember if she got motion sick.

She ate in silence, feeling the twinge in her arm where the shunt had been removed.
It’s a good thing I talked Rowan out of the fistula.
Yet she would always bear a mark there, more visible than those from the constant injections during her early days with the Foundation. Even in her new life, the scars from the old would folloher.

But it was only superficial, not soul-deep damage. Over the years, she’d safeguarded everything about herself that mattered, locked it away from Rowan, wherever he might be.

 

SKIN GAME
SKIN TIGHT
SKIN HEAT