Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
I don’t blame him.
Calling Burt was reckless. I understand my emotional response, and I give myself grace for it, but I can’t excuse putting us both in danger—no matter what.
If something were to happen to Troy because of me …
I take a deep breath to steady myself and to offset the panic rising quickly inside me. I can’t go there. I can’t think about something happening to him.
Not when we’re just getting started.
My instinct is to find him and apologize and to try to make things right. I know I was wrong. But I don’t know him well enough like this—not yet—to know if he needs time to calm down, or if he needs me to go to him.
The unknowing hurts. A lot. Because all I want to do is be his partner, but that requires knowing the other person intimately. And, obviously, I don’t.
I close my eyes, resting my head against the back of the sofa and wish this mess was over.
But somehow, I got to keep him.
“Hey.”
My head snaps up and my heart springs to life. The sight of him leaning against the doorjamb, hands in his pockets—his eyes sad and weary—shatters my heart.
“Hey,” I say carefully, setting the book on the end table. “I was going to find you, but I thought maybe you needed some time to cool off.”
“I yelled at you.”
It’s a simple sentence that’s anything but that. It’s a confession of his worst fears, an admission of wrongdoing—it’s a forlorn acknowledgment that he’s accepted defeat. All I can think about is the comparison he must be making between himself and his father … because he was upset.
Oh, Troy.
“You didn’t yell at me,” I say softly. “We were having a heated, serious conversation. It’s okay.”
“I don’t want to yell at you. I don’t want it to be like that.”
I gulp back a wave of emotions and pull my blanket back. “Come here. Please.”
He trudges across the room and sits beside me, so I crawl into his lap. His shoulders slump as he wraps his arms around me and holds me tightly, burying his face in my hair.
“Do you know how I know it’ll never be like that?” I ask.
“How?”
“Because it kills you to think you hurt me. Even though you didn’t. And I know your heart, Troy Lucas Castelli, and you wouldn’t hurt me. You’d die first.”
He sighs, planting kisses to the top of my head. “I’m sorry, Doll.”
“For what? For being upset that I did something stupid? No. I’m sorry. I let my fear and emotions get the best of me and that was irresponsible.”
“All I could think about when I saw you on your phone was someone on their way to hurt you. And I just … dammit, Dahlia. I can’t even think about it.”
“And I can’t think about anything happening to you, and to know I was so selfish today just …”
My lips tremble as I struggle against the tears.
He blows out a long, tired breath.
“I just want to protect you and make you happy,” he says. “And I worry I can’t do that. I worry I can’t keep you safe and you’ll see that I’m a fraud.”
“What?” I pull away from him so I can see his face. “I’m the safest when I’m with you. I’m the happiest when we’re together. Don’t you understand that? These past few days have been stressful, sure, but I’ve smiled more, laughed more … felt taken care of in a way I never have before. And that’s because of you.”
His eyes fill with relief, and he settles back against the couch. “Are relationships always this stressful?” He chuckles. “I’ve never thought much about it. I’ve never been interested in it. But now I realize that it hurts me more when you’re upset than it does when I’m upset. And, when you think about it like that, why do people do this?”
“What are you saying? That you don’t want to do this?”
He laughs, pulling me into him again. “Right.”
We sit quietly for a long time, listening to the storm rage outside. I want to ask him if we have to leave now that I’ve screwed up—but I don’t. Because the thought of leaving our little cocoon is depressing.
Troy must be thinking the same thing because he sighs.
“I told Ford what happened today,” he says. “I’m waiting to hear what he wants to do.”
“What do you think he’ll do?” I sit up and pull the blanket over me again. “You know what? I say we go back.”
“No.”
“Landry Security is wasting so many resources on this. You’re wasting so much time.”
“Not what I would call it.”
I roll my eyes. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you guys to start with. I knew you’d overreact.”
“You haven’t seen overreacting yet.”
“Please.”
He sits up, stretching his neck back and forth. I know this motion. I tease him about it in the office—that he’s limbering up for a fight.