Free The Space Between (The Book of Phoenix) by Kristie Cook

you meant, is it?” I asked. She shook her head, and I leaned forward over the table. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
    She watched me for a moment, her eyes glancing up at my brow-ring and then down, traveling over my arms. When they reached my wrist, she frowned and quickly looked up at me, something flickering in her eyes. Had she noticed the flame tattoo or whatever it was? The thing had shown up all on its own, driving me crazy and pissing me off at the same time. Yeah, I had ink, but every single tat meant something to me, and here appears this mark out of nowhere with no meaning whatsoever. But had Leni been observant enough to notice it was new? It was bright as ever now, the edges raised, so she probably had. But why did she have that bewildered look on her face?
    I was about to ask when she slid the book to sit between us. The brown leather cover had some kind of design embossed into it, and a metal clasp locked it shut.
    “I can’t open this,” Leni signed.
    My brows pulled together. That’s what had her upset? I pulled my pocketknife out, and when she didn’t stop me, I put the blade’s edge to where the clasp met the leather and tried to saw through. I couldn’t even make a notch into the leather. I swiped my thumb over my blade, and it was as sharp as always.
    A waitress came by to refill Leni’s coffee cup and took my order, too.
    “I already tried cutting it,” Leni’s hands told me when the waitress had left. “I’ve tried everything.”
    “What is it?” I asked.
    She shrugged. “I don’t know. The guy who gave it to me said he couldn’t open it either.”
    “Why did he give it to you?”
    She looked up at my face and then away. Her shoulders sagged, and she bit her lip, then finally returned her gaze to me.
    “Never mind,” she said. “It’s nothing. So are you taking off?”
    I didn’t like how she changed the subject. Something about the book had upset her, but now she was trying to blow it off? No, more likely, trying to tell me it was none of my business.
    “Just needed some fuel first,” I said, and right on cue, the waitress slid a plate in front of me, overflowing with eggs, bacon, sausage and pancakes loaded with strawberries and whipped cream. I stabbed a strawberry covered in cream and held it out to Leni.
    The smile she gave me was a little more real this time, but she shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m allergic to them.”
    I shoved it into my mouth. She watched me eat for a while, rejecting everything I offered to share with her.
    “So where are you off to?” I asked after cleaning my plate. “Home?”
    I must have said something wrong because tears filled Leni’s eyes. She blinked them away, though.
    “It’s time for you to go,” she said.
    “I’m worried about you,” I countered. The disbelieving look on her face stabbed me in the heart. “You don’t think I can worry about anyone except myself, do you?”
    She shrugged.
    “Three days ago, I might have agreed with you,” I admitted.
    “And something’s changed?”
    I nodded. “I have.”
    Her eyebrows arched. “And what has changed you, Mr. Winters?”
    I leaned over the table again, closer to her, and mouthed, “You did.”
    Her eyes widened briefly, then tightened and became hard. “Forget it. Like I said. It’s time for you to go.”
    “Like I said, I’m worried about you. I can’t go.”
    “You have to.”
    “No.”
    “Please.” Her eyes pleaded with me. “I can’t do this now. There’s too much going on . . . family issues . . . .”
    “I have lots of those myself. I can probably help.”
    “No. I can’t do this. You can’t help, trust me. And I don’t need it anyway. I don’t need . . . this.”
    “You don’t need a friend?” I pressed.
    Her hands moved with dramatic flair. “I don’t need you ! Now please, just go.”
    Like last night, her hard expression told me she was done arguing. She may have affected me like no other woman had before, but I wasn’t about to beg.