Space (Laws of Physics #2)(39)

Mona and I didn’t move.

She stood about four feet away. It was still snowing, and a snowflake landed on her cheekbone, melting almost as quickly as it touched her skin. I knew how it felt.

“Thank you.”

Steadying myself, keeping my features clear of expression, I gave my eyes back to her. “For what?”

“For being so civil.”

“Civil.” I tested the word on my tongue and decided I didn’t like it. “Civil as in civilized? You think just because people aren’t as smart as you, they’re incapable of civility?”

Her eyebrows pulled together, and she flinched. “I never—I never thought, nor do I think, that I’m smarter than you.”

“Then you’re an idiot.” I glanced over her head at nothing and I chuckled humorlessly. “What does that make me?”

She made a sound of frustration, taking another half step forward, drawing my eyes back to hers. I was surprised to see a bit of fire behind her gaze, like I’d made her angry.

“Then I rescind my appreciation for your civility, and I thank you instead—and in specific—for sharing my sled. Or, I guess, offering to.” Her eyes were whiskey colored today and slightly narrowed, staring at me with what looked like simmering annoyance.

Perversely, I liked that I could get any reaction out of her. I’d been thinking constantly about our conversation in the study two days ago and I’d decided it had been one-sided. She’d barely said anything. She’d made a brave face, let me say my piece, and admitted only that she’d regretted it. But she hadn’t apologized.

And that fucking note . . .

Just thinking about her admission of regret and that note had me grinding my teeth. I shoved my hands into my coat pockets, a crescendo of anger making me speak without thinking, “Leo should tell Charlie to back off, but I don’t think he will.”

Mona was quiet for a second, and I heard her take a deep breath. “Okay.”

“Charlie isn’t a bad guy.”

“I didn’t think he was.”

Returning my attention to her lovely face, I studied the dark circles beneath her eyes, the paleness of her lips. But her cheeks were now pink, probably from the cold. Has she been eating? I didn’t think so.

Stop wondering about her.

“It’s none of my business. . .” I said, unsure what I was talking about. Charlie? Or if she’d been eating? Swallowing the impulse to ask how she was, if she was okay, I worked hard to keep my concern for her buried, shielding it behind the anger I was having trouble holding on to.

“Abram.” Mona had also stuck one of her hands in her coat pocket, seemed to be fiddling with something inside. “I’m not interested in Charlie,” she said gently.

She’d taken another step forward and it felt too close. Her eyes had turned soft, but also restrained. She looked like she wanted to say more. She didn’t.

Kaitlyn had been right. Mona DaVinci was a D minor kind of gal. She was all of those adjectives the interviewers used. Cold, brilliant, calculating, aloof. She was not the sunny, funny girl from Chicago that made me laugh, who was so easy to tease, who made me hot with her brains and body and wit. She was not brave. She was not honest, maybe not even with herself.

“Then you should tell him. Tell him, so he doesn’t waste time hoping for more,” I said, my voice rough, allowing the cold within me to join the cold without and embracing the numbness of disenchantment. “Try being honest for once. You might like it.”





9





Particle Physics





*Mona*





Try being honest for once.

I couldn’t get his parting shot out of my head. Try being honest . . . For once.

Even as I checked Leo’s temperature and pressed a cold cloth to his forehead, Abram’s voice chanted in my head, be honest, be honest, be honest.

“That bad?” My brother’s unsteady question pulled me out of my musings. He shivered under his covers and his jaw was clamped shut, like he was trying to stop his teeth from reflexively clacking together.

Poor Leo. He’d finally succumbed to his cold about two hours into our sledding adventure and would soon be in a medicine haze. I’d administered a hefty dose of everything we had in hopes it would help him sleep.

Glancing at the readout on the thermometer, I read, “102.4.”

“Ugh. This sucks. I just want to die.”

Rolling my lips between my teeth to stop my smile, I rolled my eyes at his dramatics. “You’re not dying.”

“No. But it feels like I am.”

Now I did smile, setting aside his thermometer to the side table. On a whim, I placed a kiss on his forehead. “You need to sleep.”

As I leaned away, he caught my eyes, ensnared them. Even in his hazy state, my small action seemed to shock the hell out of him.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked, looking truly alarmed.

“Better than you are.” I pressed my cool hand to his cheek. “I’m sorry you’re sick, but I’m happy you’re not alone and sick.”

He coughed, covering his mouth. “I always have friends around, Mona. I’m rarely alone.” He had sore-throat voice.

“It’s not the same though, is it?” I watched my hand brush hair off my sweet brother’s forehead. “It’s better with family, I think. You know I’ll always love you, no matter what.”