I didn't answer right away.
The way he said Bern's name, controlled but splintering at the edges made it sound like jealousy. Or maybe I was just too confused to properly name what I was seeing in him. Or maybe I was reading too much into the slight tightening of his jaw, the careful steadiness of his tone.
But one thing I was sure of.
It was hurt.
He was hurt.
And beneath that hurt, there was something dangerously close to regret.
"Why were you watching my house?" I asked instead.
His expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes something quick and guarded.
"Answer me, Sylvia."
"No," I shot back, my voice low but firm. "You don't get to question me like that without explaining why you've been watching us."
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
"I wasn't watching.." he said.
I raised an eyebrow.
He exhaled slowly. "Not like that."
"Then how, Rome?" I demanded. "Because you knew he was inside. You even knew his name. So tell me, how? Did you investigate him too?"
