The feelings shouldn’t be this intense. Not yet.
“What’s with that face?” Six asked curiously, smoothing Bruno’s hair out of his eyes.
There was caked blood in it.
My stomach clenched.
“I have feelings for him and I don’t really even know him all that well.” I paused. “I punched him in the throat on my first day of high school.”
Six gasped, her head whipping to the side so fast that it looked almost staged. “That was you?”
I tilted my head. “You saw?”
She shook her head instantly, her hand dropping from Bruno’s head, which caused me an immense amount of relief.
So apparently, Bruno wasn’t allowed to be touched by any one of the female persuasion, or it set off my anger meter.
“I got a secondhand account from Bruno,” she admitted. “He told me all about it when we met for lunch.” Her smile was wide. “He said, ‘some ten-year-old just tried to kill me’ and that was that. I had to find out from a few people later what really happened. It was comical to say the least.”
My lips curled up in amusement.
“I was having a bad day,” I admitted. “Not to mention I was still dealing with a lot of issues then. I didn’t like people touching my stuff or me, and he’d tried to help me. I reacted badly, I admit. But to be honest, it’d been a very bad day.”
Six waved me away. “It’s okay. Everyone is allowed those kinds of days.”
A commotion in the hallway had us both turning toward it to see a man with an official looking business suit on stuffing something in his pocket, and the two cops from earlier, as well as Dr. Blunt outside Bruno’s room.
“I should probably go before I’m caught,” she confessed quietly.
I didn’t disagree.
There was a reason that the rest of them weren’t here.
“And, if Lynn catches me here, or I’m caught by someone else, things might go south. And though nobody really knows of me, the right person could figure it out.” She sighed.
“I’ll keep you updated if you want to text,” I offered.
She winked. “I’ll text you. No calling?”
I scrunched up my nose in disgust. “I don’t do phone calls.”
Her eyes twinkled as she hiked her hair up into a sloppy bun, then pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up over her head.
That’s when I saw the lettering on the sweatshirt.
“Dallas PD?” I asked curiously.
She shrugged. “I found it at the Goodwill. Hopefully nobody will ask me any questions this way.”
I mean, it was possible.
But it might also draw more attention to her in the long run.
“Do you need my phone number?” I asked curiously.
She shook her head.
“No. I have Hunt. He can find anything. Do you need anything?” Six asked. “Before I leave?”