Chapter 19 Not a Kid
KIER
"I'm still waiting."
She peeked at me from under her lashes, then quickly returned to her book. I smirked. Every twitch, every glance—effortlessly cute. Ridiculously adorable.
Seconds passed. She lifted her head, but wouldn't meet my eyes. Even in the cold, a faint sheen of moisture glimmered on her temple. She was nervous.
"Can I see?" I asked.
Slowly, she nodded, handing me the book while keeping her gaze down. I let it slide.
I scanned the words. Not what I expected. My little wife was a puzzle. A mystery I was suddenly desperate to solve.
She had asked if I had more rules. But I'd never given her rules before. What did she mean?
"Look at me."
Very slowly, she obeyed. Pale, bracing herself. I hesitated, then decided not to say what I'd planned. Not necessary. I'd give her what she wanted… for now.
"This is good," I said, praising her.
Her eyes widened slightly, like a child craving reassurance. I nodded, reaching out to touch her face. Soft. Cold. Perfectly smooth. She glanced at my hand, then up at me.
My gaze flicked to her lips. Immediately, I dropped my hand. Not now. Not necessary.
I looked back at the book. Her handwriting was bold, careful, beautiful. A little slow, but deliberate. I gestured for the pencil, and she handed it over. I wrote what she wanted.
When I finished, she stared at me, awe in her eyes. I smiled.
"I'm done."
She took the book, but I shook my head.
"Don't open it yet. If I have more rules, I'll write them down."
She nodded, clutching it tightly. Relief flashed on her face, and I wanted to ruffle her hair. But she wasn't a kid. My lips had been on hers. Definitely not a kid. I didn't want her to think I was mocking her.
I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped out. She opened her door too, but hesitated.
I walked over. She was trying to unbuckle hers but couldn't. The memory hit me—her first ride in my car at the courthouse. She hadn't used it then. Too caught up in anger to notice. But this time… she'd trapped herself.
I held back a laugh and leaned down to help.
She pressed deeper into the seat, breath quick, uneven. Her heart raced—I could hear it. I carefully freed her.
She let out a soft sigh. Relief.
I looked at her. Every freckle, every detail. So many, each one perfect. I wanted to memorize them all.
Before I realized, my fingers brushed her cheek. She stiffened. I barely noticed. Too captivated. Every emotion flickered across her face, vivid as an untouched canvas… one I wanted to mark.
Wrong thought. Pulled back. Immediately.
"Come on," I muttered, glancing at the cinema. I ran a hand through my hair and took a calming breath.
She joined me, eyes wide. Barely chest height.
A passerby made her tense, shrinking closer, knuckles white as she clutched her thigh.
Instinctively, I grabbed her hand. Clammy, small. Perfectly fragile. I didn't mind.
We walked. Fingers intertwined. Size difference comical. I'd dated petite girls, but Genesis was different. Easily breakable. Yet she stayed close. Hesitant, but present.
Inside the building, I knew I'd made the right call buying out the entire cinema. She wasn't ready for strangers.
And for some reason… I liked that.
She stayed by my side. Fingers twitching slightly against mine. Hesitant. But she didn't pull away.
Good.
Because today… she wasn't going anywhere.