Katrina
The next morning, Leo was waiting for me, propped against the wall, running his hands through his midnight hair. When he saw me, he froze, and it took him a moment to push himself off and stand upright.
He started walking without a word, and I fell into step beside him. His usual tenseness felt more rigid, and he kept eying me.
I stopped, and it took him a moment to notice. I grasped his hand, and he looked at our fingers, brows tugged. “Are you okay?” I asked.
He swallowed and looked behind me. “Hey,” I demanded, squeezing his hand. “Look at me.” He reluctantly did, and his eyes were almost red-rimmed. “What’s wrong?”
Asking him if he was okay felt so… cheap when I could tell he was anything but.
“Yeah—”
“Don’t lie to me,” I snapped, pointing a finger at him. “You promis
