Chapter(Hundred) Eighty Eight: Panic attack

Silence came in many forms, a medium of tranquility or the product of baffling disturbance. Yet the silence that absorbed them all through their drive back to the house was the worst so far, a far cry from exuberant. The air around them was stuff, pulsing with tension and all Becca wanted to do at that moment was reach out to Leo, and stroke his arm. Remind him that whatever this was, he wasn't alone. But just as she hefted her hand to his, the car came to a halt and for the first time since they left the Opera house, he turned to stare at her. On cue, his lips tilted into one of those disarming smiles of his that had the power of weakening knees— her knees.

Stop it; she wished to say to him. Don't mask anything. You don't need to hide.