I’ve got skills. But we’re diverting off topic. What are you going to do about Penny?”
I slump against the counter, my forearms resting on the marble. “I don’t know. I don’t want to push her. Yet she lies through her teeth about how well she’s coping. She just finished telling me she’s sleeping well, and less than an hour ago I had to shout her name three times to wake her from whatever nightmare had her screaming the house down.”
“She lies even though you woke her?”
“I don’t think she knows I’ve been waking her. I don’t enter her room. I yell from down the hall.”
“Christ, Luca, you’re such a pussy. Why don’t you take charge? Demand change.”
My hibernating anger awakens, the warmth in my veins heating. Sarah thinks I don’t want to take charge? Like I don’t fight every day against the instinct to take control and dictate how Penny should face her recovery?
I want more than anything to drag her out of the darkness. To shake some life into her. But she’s so fucking temperamental. She hasn’t grieved for those she’s lost. She hasn’t cried. Not even once. Which makes me fucking petrified I’ll push only to break her beyond salvation.
“I’m done with this conversation.” I slide from my stool. “It’s time for you to leave.”
“No, not today. I’m not going to let you block me from her anymore. Enough is enough. Forcing her to speak to me isn’t going to kill her.”
“You’re not pushing her,” I snarl.
“And you’re not her keeper.”
Like hell I’m not. Her keeper is exactly what I am.
Her savior.
Her protector.
Her whatever-the-hell-she-needs.
“Luca, you’re meant to be watching her temporarily. To get her on her feet so she can return home.”
“She doesn’t want to go home,” I grate through clenched teeth. “And if she wanted to speak to you she wouldn’t have spent the last two days hiding in her room while you were here. Or fled to the back deck this morning. She’s made it clear she doesn’t want company.”
“No, she’s made it clear she wants to hide, and that’s not how you recover from trauma.”
“You’re not a—”
“I’m done arguing.” She starts for the French doors. “I’m going to let her know I’ve been coming here for her. Nobody else.”
My pulse detonates, triggering the migraine I’ve held at bay all morning.
“Wait,” I growl, stalking after her. “Stop.” I’m about to grab her arm and yank her backward when she pauses and looks at me with a raised brow.
“What?”
“If you do anything to upset her, I’ll…”
The grin is slow to curve her lips, taunting my threat. “You’ll what?”
I grind my teeth harder, determined not to give her the fight she wants. “I promised myself I wouldn’t push her. And so far, I’ve succeeded. I’ve let her do her own thing even though it kills me to watch her suffer. So don’t you dare go out there and stir trouble.”
“Me? Stir trouble?” She clasps a hand to her chest, her sarcastic look of offense taking a second to fade into something more serious. “Give me credit. I’m not a heartless bitch all the time.”
“Says who?”
She scoffs. “I get it, okay? You care about her. You’re protective. Even a little obsessive. Believe me, I don’t want to do anything to poke that bear.”
She doesn’t understand. Doesn’t get it.
I’m skating on thin ice here, barely managing my threadbare restraint when it comes to Penny. She’s far more fragile than she was when I rescued her. Back in Greece she’d had fire in her belly. There’d been unending grit and determination, which I’d thought would see her through to a remarkable recovery.
That all changed the minute we stepped onto the private jet and began our return stateside.
The fight vanished. The determination and grit disappeared.
The woman who I was certain would grasp her newfound freedom with both hands turned into a quiet, timid ghost, too frightened to even leave the house.
“Don’t worry, Luca.” Sarah steps closer and claps me lightly on the cheek, taunting the pain in my head. “You know I have experience with trauma. I’m not going to do anything to make her life harder.”
She reaches for the door and opens the barrier wide, the cool air sweeping inside. But she doesn’t step onto the deck. She waits, letting me take the lead.
“Be civilized,” I mutter under my breath as I walk around her, then farther along the length of the house to the place where Penny hides.
She’s seated on one of my wooden chairs, her coffee mug cradled in