Even when Lord Jethro went quiet long enough for the silence to feel overwhelming, Grey refused to fill it.
The quiet stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Grey could hear the faint sound of wind brushing against the trees beyond the fence, could hear his own heartbeat thudding in his ears, but he didn't speak.
He had decided that he wouldn't take back his question because Lord Jethro needed to be clear.
He couldn't be allowed to say all of that,.. about not wanting the mark gone, about spiraling at the thought of losing him, and then retreat behind composure as if none of it had happened.
Grey had asked what he meant, and he would wait until he answer him.
"I think I…" Lord Jethro started, then stopped.
Grey's pulse spiked.
"I might be having actual feelings for you." The words came out strained, as though dragged from somewhere he wasn't used to accessing. Then, almost immediately, he corrected himself. "I have feelings for you."
Everything inside Grey went still.
