I rolled my eyes, but did as he requested. “Happy?”

“Yep.”

Tilting my head so I could see him, I smiled when he winked at me. “You… you surprise me.”

Hayden rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. “How do I surprise you?”

I bit my lip. “You worry about hurting me, but you never seem to worry about me hurting you. And I’m the one with the killer touch.”

“I don’t because I know you won’t hurt me.” His gaze drifted over my face, then lower. He wiggled closer. Our knees pressed together, sending sharp tingles down my legs.

“Can I ask you something? Personal?”

He sent me a sidelong glance. “Sure.”

“How old were you when Cromwell found you?”

His eyes moved back to the ceiling. The smile was gone. In its place was a dark, brooding look. “I was seven.”

“Were you still with your parents?”

A shake of the head, a fine tensing of muscles followed. “No. I was in foster care.”

I bit my lip. I didn’t have any experience with foster homes, but it was a fear that’d driven me to do everything possible to keep Olivia out of them. “How did Cromwell find you?”

Hayden relaxed and tipped his head down. “He came to the foster homethe eighth one in two years.” He stopped, laughed. “It was the beginning of summer, and he just showed up. The rest is history.”

“What is it about the Facility? It’s like they are so evil, but you’ve been there. It sounds like Cromwell worked for them. I don’t get it.”

“The Facility is complicated.”

“Well, try explaining it to me. I may end up there one day.”

Hayden frowned. “You’ll never end up there, Em.”

“How can you be so sure of that?”

He flipped onto his back, but somehow he was closer than before. “I’d never allow it. The Facility isn’t evil, but they have their own methods of training. They’re harsh at times, demanding. To them, being gifted is everything. Their motto, ‘What lies behind you and what lies in front of you, pales in comparison to what lies inside of you,’ isn’t what Emerson believed when he said those words, you know?”

“How long were you there?” I asked, not really expecting him to answer.

“I… I was seven when I got there. Eleven when I left. So… four years, give or take a couple of months. It was better than foster care, but in a way, it was also worse. There were a lot of rules. They monitored every single moment, so I had no time to myself. And there were a lot of tests. They liked to… push you to your limits. To really test your control and see what it took for you to lose it.” He trailed off, staring at the ceiling. “Anyway, tell me something about you. Something I don’t know.”