“You can take the reins occasionally if that’s the result,” Dante said teasingly.
“Maybe on special occasions. When you least expect it.” I went back to toying with his hand and pushed down the little flare of anxiety that rose in my chest. “So.”
“So,” Dante said, with some reluctance.
“You said we should talk.”
“I did,” he said. His muscles were a little tense against me, like he had things to say that he was dreading.
I pressed my lips together. Whatever it was, it was better to get it out in the open. I was tired of hiding what I wanted, of guessing. “What did you want to talk about?”
“I’m sorry I told you to go home,” Dante said. “After the fire. I was just—I was so overwhelmed.” He paused and gathered his thoughts. “I thought I couldn’t handle the aftermath of the fire and be the man you need at the same time. I didn’t want you to see me like that.”
“Like what?” I asked softly.
“Weak,” Dante admitted. “Hurting. Scared. I thought it would be better to be alone.”
I folded our hands together. “Was it?”
“No,” he said immediately. “The entire week I wished you were here, and I was too fucking scared to ask you. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too,” I said.
“For what?” Dante asked. “All you did was what I asked.”
“I stopped you,” I said. “I kept you from going outside to confront them. If I hadn’t—”
“They probably would’ve ganged up on me,” Dante cut in. “And if they had the firebombs with them, I’m sure they had guns. You didn’t do anything wrong, baby. That was the smart thing to do, especially after what they’d tried with you.”
That’s what I’d been thinking that morning, but there was no way of knowing for sure what would have happened. Maybe if I’d let him go outside, he would’ve scared them away and Stella’s would still be standing, and we wouldn’t have had a fight at all.
“You saved my life,” Dante said.
I started a little. “That’s a reach.”
“Not stopping me from going outside,” Dante clarified. “You thought about the flour. I was really going to try to go for the extinguisher in the back. And if you hadn’t thought about the flour catching…”
“I don’t like to think about that,” I said, my stomach turning sour. There had been far too many close calls these last couple weeks.
Dante tipped his head down and kissed my neck. “Me neither. But it’s true.”
“I just wish I could’ve stopped it somehow,” I admitted.
“Me, too.” Dante sighed. “Stella’s has been my entire life, you know? Stella’s and the club, and the two are inextricably locked up in each other. That’s all I’ve ever had. Until I met you.”
I kissed Dante’s knuckles again. “I should’ve come to see you earlier. I should’ve known you were struggling.”
“Heath—”
“My turn,” I said playfully, but with an edge of sternness. “Don’t interrupt.”
Dante chuckled but went silent.
“Growing up, my brothers didn’t just push me around in the gym,” I admitted. The words almost got stuck in my throat, but I pushed through. “They always told me I wasn’t enough. Too small, too girly, too weak, that I’d never amount to anything, could never make anything better for myself. And so it was always… it was really hard for me to trust myself. All I could focus on was surviving, you know? Getting out—going somewhere different, since I wasn’t entirely sure better was an option.
“And once I did get out, Hell’s Ankhor was all I had. Sure, I had my classes, and some acquaintances from campus, but the Hell’s Ankhor boys became my family. And it was good, really good, and even though there were other things I wanted… I guess it felt greedy to try and get them.”
Dante hummed his understanding and tipped his nose into the crown of my head as he listened.
“I guess I never thought I deserved something like this,” I said. “I didn’t think—I didn’t think anyone would really love me for real. My brothers made me think there was something wrong with me. Something fundamentally broken. So I thought I was lucky that you wanted to be with me at all, even if it was just for me to get… experience. And when you told me to go home, I felt like maybe everyone had been right about me. Like I wasn’t worth the trouble. Since you couldn’t”—I cleared my throat, shoving down my tears—“rely on me when you really needed someone, it made sense