The Six: Genesis | A Reverse Harem Novel

Seventy-Six

"This place is..."

"The best?" Lewis finishes, stuffing the last bit of his blueberry pancakes into his mouth. His left eyebrow raises as I pause, watching the way a smile echoes across his features before he can hide it behind a cough. "Did you doubt me, Blue?"

I shrug. "I have no reason to trust you."

"Ouch," he clutches his chest, "that hurts. But, be honest, what were you expecting?"

"Honestly, I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't this."

"What's wrong with this?"

His tone shifts, and so does his demeanor. Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I stare through my eyelashes at him.

"Nothing," I sigh, "that's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

Lewis is more patient than I ever could be. Though he still seems out of sorts, his amazing dark eyes are clear and focused, but a softness lingers beneath. Without thinking, I reach out and grasp his hands.

His fingers weave through mine, clasping tightly. Tinkles feather up my arms, sending a shiver down my spine. Somehow, it's like what I feel with Chris, Charlie and Michael.

A need gathers at the base of my stomach, but I don't feed into it. Instead, I shove those feelings into a box, compartmentalizing my emotions. Feeling this way about Lewis so quickly is not only reckless but ridiculous.

Still, it's like I've known him forever.

"Just not what I was expecting in this area. That's all."

He chuckles, "You sure?"

"Positive," I raise my free hand, "scout's honor."

"You were in the scouts?"

I shake my head, "No. You obviously knew the sign, were you?"

"No, definitely not. I was spending my time learning piano, violin, and diving headfirst into martial arts."

I grimace. "Ah, yes, the obligatory learning of musical instruments."

"You play?"

Shaking my head, I scoot closer. "I used to, but I haven't played in years."

"Oh?" His head tilts, and he leans forward, eyes locked with mine. "Why did you stop?"

"I stopped because my mother d—"

Vehemently, I yank my hand from his and slip all the way back into the booth. The old upholstery—a dark forest green—is supple and matches the warm tones in the wood surrounds. Chipped, but well cared for, the table we share features small square tiles.

"Hey, hey, hey..." His voice, a smooth lullaby, lowers under the chatter. "I'm sorry if things got too personal. It wasn't my intention to bring up bad memories."

Stubbornly, I don't respond to his apology. He meant no harm, but it didn't mean anything to my flailing feelings. They're raw, as if my parent's murder was yesterday.

Losing them took a lot of life out of and from me. All of those happy memories we made simply stopped manufacturing one day. My mother will never see me get married and she didn't get to help me buy my first bra.

Those events belonged to Catrina. The woman Ryker trusted with my life. She'd become something—someone—else before she was gone.

My father... the man who pushed me to be my best even when it hurt, would never see my company rise from the ashes or change the tide of war. He never had the chance to teach me stick shift or take me on my first parasailing attempt.