- RAYA -
Dex is quiet the whole way home. He doesn't ask what I want for dinner, which is fine because my stomach is full of restless nerves. He doesn't ask how the day went. And I see him curling his hands on the steering wheel, his knuckles white. Those unspent powerful emotions are still there—just under the surface, waiting for an outlet.
When we walk into the house, he turns the lights on and then holds his hand out—waiting. My stomach drops even further than it was, but when I reach into my bag to retrieve the journals, there is also a deliciously powerful emotion that starts uncoiling within me, too. I'm terrified for him to read what's in these, but I'm also… crazily thrilled at the idea.
He looks at the journals in his hands, staring at them for several moments. And then his eyes lift to mine. There is still that wild within them, but they have softened a little bit.
