He broke off, and Jane just stared at him. He wasn’t making any sense.
“Now’s not the time,” he said, looking dazed. As if he just realized what he’d said. “Let’s go grab some lunch.”
“Whoa!” She pressed a hand into his chest, keeping him down. “Don’t change the subject. Marco, what about him?”
There was a sound between a sigh and a growl as he pulled himself up from the lounging position. She hadn’t seen him so distressed even when he was up to his neck in bandages in the infirmary. She leaned against him as she sat up.
When he kept silent, she prodded, “Marco told you something about me and Dave?”
Ryan nodded, frowning.
“That gossip girl…” she hissed, anger stirring in her veins. “What did he make up this time?”
“Maybe he misunderstood something,” Ryan said with a shrug. “He just said he’d seen you flirting.”
Jane threw up a hand, her face incredulous. “Never happened! Why’d he say that?”
Ryan chewed on his lip. “Cause he wants me to break his face?”
“If I don’t do it first.”
She breathed in deep, massaging her temples. “There was never anything between me and Dave. Why would you two talk about it, anyway?” Ryan just looked at her, that faraway look back in his eyes. “Oh.”
Her heart picked up speed, her throat suddenly dry. She looked at his scarred arm to avoid his gaze, at the ragged mark the bullet had left. The bullet meant for her head.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered.
“I didn’t want to mess this up,” he said quietly. “It’s always been just the four of us. This friendship…” He trailed off again. Took a deep breath, looking up at her. “And when I couldn’t keep it in anymore, there was never a good moment. And now isn’t a good moment, either. You don’t have to say anything, just—”
Her index finger pressed to his lips. “Don’t.”
He was wrong about this being a bad moment. All the years they’d known each other, all the things they knew about each other—it had always felt right. She’d just never paused to think what it meant.
Her palm slid over his cheek, over the sharp line of his jaw, and he leaned into the touch. She should’ve known two weeks ago, when they were chasing the Commando. He’d been so distressed, and she should’ve realized why.
He tightened his arm around her, her eyes fluttering closed when his lips pressed to hers. This, too, felt right. She hadn’t even noticed how she ended up in his lap, his palm cradling her head, his lips hot on hers. She pressed closer still.
The door snapped open, startling them apart.
Marco stood at the threshold, such utter disinterest on his face, Jane almost laughed.
“About goddamn time,” he grumbled. Then slammed the door shut.
She turned to Ryan, arching a brow.
“Ignore him.”
Jane grinned. It felt strange, after all these days without a single smile. “You still want that lunch?”
“No. And he’s not coming back.”
“Where will he sleep?”
“In the hall. With Chad. Don’t care.”
Her smile returned as their noses touched.
“Are we done with the questions?” he whispered against her lips.
“Yes,” she breathed. “For now.”
Chapter 32
Chad sat in the canteen, staring at the table for what felt like hours.
For two tables and six people, it was unusually quiet. Around him, Jane, Ryan, Dave, Marco, and Skull picked through their supper and exchanged rare, subdued words, pretending that everything was as usual—and Pain hadn’t been in a coma for six days.
Marco poked an elbow in Chad’s side, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Want the chicken? I’m full,” he said, pointing at his tray.
Chad looked at him for a long moment. If Marco couldn’t eat, then things were pretty damn bad.
“No, thanks,” he said at last.
Marco sighed. “You been running on that shitty coffee for days, man. One more day, and you’ll turn into a giant coffee cup.”
“Not hungry,” Chad muttered. He caught Jane looking at him, her eyes shadowed by sleep deprivation, and averted his gaze. He knew he looked like shit. No need for others’ pitying stares.
He lifted the cup to his mouth, only to gag at the smell of coffee and put it back down. Just then, Doc walked into the canteen, scanned the room, and pretended he hadn’t seen them. Chad still stared, long enough for Doc to sense it and look him in the eyes. Chad’s eyebrow rose in a silent question, and Doc shook his head, No, no changes.
The chair gave an ugly screech as Chad pushed to his feet. The others stared, no doubt having noticed the exchange, but didn’t say a word. He turned around and stalked out of the room.
He kept walking on autopilot, until a blast of cold air hit him in the face, and he realized he was on the rooftop. The two guards on both sides glanced at him, then returned to whatever they’d been gazing at before. Still like statues, unbothered by the wind and snow in their leather coats and shimmering shields.
Chad closed the squeaky door behind him and walked to the edge, his sneakers leaving dark footprints in the thin layer of snow.
He tugged on his own shield as he crouched on the ledge, spreading it just over his skin to ward off the snow, but it didn’t help against the winter’s bite. Good, he thought. He’d rather think about the cold than Pain’s pale face, her lifeless form down in the infirmary so different from her usual fiery self.
Leaving the building, straying from her for longer than an hour seemed