“I’ll check,” I said standing up. “You’re in the middle of all that.”
“Okay thank you,” she replied and went back to finishing the bacon.
I was almost down the stairs when I realized who I was about to greet at the door. It was a gut thing. I should have expected him to return after last night. Lila had been so busy looking back at Cruz that she hadn’t realized I checked to see what had her attention. The guy stayed there awhile. Her not going to him was a bold move but I still thought she was weak. Him coming here this morning wasn’t good.
But this wasn’t my decision to make.
When I crossed the studio and got to the double doors of the entrance, there he was. Exactly who I expected. Looking like he’d drank a fifth of whiskey and hadn’t slept a wink.
I wanted to leave his ass out there. Safely away from Lila. From hurting her even more. But then she could have a reason to be mad at me. I wasn’t here to protect her. At least not from this.
“Cruz,” I said as I opened the door.
He pushed by me and headed for the back door that led to the apartment. I’d been right about the whiskey—he reeked of it. This wasn’t what she needed. He didn’t seem to give a shit though.
“Are you trying to crush her?” I asked still standing at the door wishing he’d walk back out of it. He stopped and waited a beat before glaring back at me.
“You don’t know shit. She doesn’t love you. You’re the fucking bandage.” The hate in his tone was a bit alarming.
I shrugged. I wasn’t affected by his hate and I wasn’t scared of him. He was built. Tall. But he was hung over, and I had the upper hand. “I know she’s hurting. She’s trying to heal. But you won’t let her. You keep ripping her open again and again.”
He stared at me. Like he would like to murder me with his bare hands. I didn’t move. I didn’t want to fight the guy. Lila wouldn’t be happy about it.
“I’m not good enough for her. Why can’t she see that?” He sounded pained. Less anger more regret.
“I think she can. But can you?”
His hate flared back to life. “I love her. I would die for her. Take a fucking bullet for her. Can you say that? You barely know her. I’ve known her all my life. Loved her most of it. I just didn’t want to.” As he said the words, I could see the shock in his eyes. He surprised himself. I doubted he’d ever admitted that out loud.
“You have a funny way of showing love,” I told him.
He ran his hands through his hair and the wild look in his eyes was a man that was wrecked. “She’s destroyed me. I am fucking ruined. I need her. I’m so damn addicted to her I can’t function. I can’t stand her being with you. That you or someone like you will be the right one. Good enough. That she’ll belong to another man. I can’t fucking stand it!” he ended that with a roar and pulled at his hair like a man possessed.
“You’ve had too much to drink. Go home. Sleep it off. Think this through and if you still want to come back.”
He shook his head. “I can’t leave. Not with you up there with her.”
This was worse than I thought. She was in love with a psycho. Why was no one in her life concerned about this? The guy needed some mental help.