Manipulative Attraction

33. ⚛️ DIH-VUHL-JUH NS

"Hawthorne, don't leave."

Thorne's hand clutched the doorknob, but something in her voice turned him around.

He drew his attention to her hands clasped before her mouth. With her index fingers touching her top lip, it seemed as if Jeannie were silently pleading for him to change his mind.

"Jeannie you don't understand. I'm ..." He couldn't tell her. How could he share his past without pushing her away?

"You can tell me anything. I won't run."

He shifted his eyes to the ceiling as he fought back the darkness within. "You will, Jeannie. That's why I'm so afraid."

"Don't be."

Before Jeannie, it was inconceivable for him to admit what he was to an outsider—let alone a mark. Now, it all came down to where his allegiance lay—with Jeannie or with The Source.

If he were to choose the agency, he would forever be alone in the world. Should he take a gamble on telling Jeannie everything and hope she understood? Would she forgive him for deceiving her?

Thorne rubbed his neck as a trickle of sweat rolled down his back. It was now or never to reveal the secrets he'd kept hidden for so long.

His childhood.

The Source.

And what happened to his last mark.

After he came clean, Jeannie would undoubtedly order him out of her apartment. Not to mention her life.

He studied her, his breath caught in his throat. Only Jeannie's expression, open and trusting, gave him the wherewithal to go after something he never knew he needed. Jeannie, with her light and laughter, had reached the heart of his soul—the part he'd thought had disappeared along with his mother.

She was his light in the darkness. She deserved to know the truth.

Thorne's grimace told her how much at war he was with himself. What could she say to relieve him of his burden and her own?

When Thorne opened his mouth, his words came from barely moving lips "It's my past..."

"I trust you, Hawthorne. Nothing you can say will—"

"Jeannie. Jeannie." Thorne shook his head. "If you only knew."

His indecision allowed her to hope. She placed her hands on his chest. The connection gave her resolve to tear down the wall he'd built up around himself.

"Tell me, Hawthorne. Please?"

He let out a sigh so immense, his chest rumbled under her hand. "Okay. We'd better sit down."

Thorne took her hand and led her to the couch. They sat with their thighs brushing. After a deep breath, Thorne began.

He told Jeannie what had happened to his mother, leaving out none of the details. A sick feeling crept into the pit of her stomach when Thorne talked about the bad men. She had a good idea just who the bad men were. She worked for them after all.

"I was in a home for boys for a year," Thorne said, a ghost of a smile playing about his lips. "I liked it there well enough, but when the government grant dried up, the orphanage's administration had to find homes for us." Thorne's mouth turned down, and his eyes burned with an angry fire. "That's how I came to live with Momma Diana."

The way Thorne had spat his foster mother's name from between his teeth like a piece of rotten food, made Jeannie think the story wouldn't be nice.