Page 39 of Her Hidden Smile

It was like she wasn’t even there.

“Millie?”

That’s when I noticed a slight sheen of perspiration on her face. I traced her cheek and forehead with the back of my fingers. She felt clammy.

“Millie?”

Again, nothing.

“Millie,” I said louder as I jostled her. “Millie, talk to me. Come back to me.”

Nothing.

That’s when I realized she’d closed up as soon as I’d touched her hip.

Her injured hip.

Her scarred hip.

It’d been fine when she’d been in the middle of muscle spasms. Hell, Frankenstein’s monster could have massaged her leg and she wouldn’t have cared. But right now? Yeah, it was bad.

I slid my hand upward until it rested in the middle of her back. Slowly, life came back to her eyes, but unfortunately, it was shame.

“No, Millie. You’re fine. Everything’s perfect,” I crooned.

Her eyes glassed over, but no tears fell. I doubted she ever let herself cry.

At least I didn’t have to worry about my raging hard on any longer. I traced circles in the middle of her back until I felt her relax. Millie shuddered.

“Renzo?”

“That’s me,” I teased.

“I panicked, didn’t I?”

“Seemed like.”

She shoved her face into my chest and mumbled something I couldn’t hear.

“What?”

She said something I couldn’t hear again.

“Cariña, you’re going to have to stop talking to my shirt if you want me to be able to hear you.”

She looked up at me.

“You never told me what cariña means.”

“It means sweetheart, in Spanish.”

“Oh,” she nodded. “I kind of like it.”

“I’m glad. Now, what were you saying to my shirt?”

“I was apologizing for being a fool.”

“You aren’t a fool. Did you panic because I touched your scarred hip?”