step. A slight hibernation period. It won’t last.”
“I’m not a goddamn bear.”
“You sure?” He scowls. “Because you’re acting like one.”
It’s my turn to grind my teeth and scowl. Fire ignites in my belly. Heat builds in my veins. The instinct to fight awakens in me after being dormant for so long, but I shut it down. I won’t let Luther back into my life. He changed me, making me lash out at the first sign of fear. But I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t want to be reminded of him every time I’m scared. Or angry. “I said, ‘no.’”
“Fine.” He turns and starts for the door. “Call them. Don’t call them. I don’t give a shit. But you’re going to get your ass back into the exercise room. I’ve decided you’re not finished for the day.”
7
Luca
I was surprised when she joined me in the exercise room. The continuous glare and tense muscles were predictable, though. I made her jog another two miles. Then demanded she sit her ass down on the sofa and continue our daily movie routine.
This time she didn’t sleep. She kept giving me the silent treatment, her glare cemented in place.
I let it fly because I appreciated seeing her committed to something for once, even if that commitment was her annoyance with me.
I even anticipated the animosity seeping into the following day, but she woke this morning without bitchiness. In fact, she’s acting as if nothing happened yesterday. She talked to me over breakfast, went for a run on the treadmill afterward, and has just joined me for a movie at our usual mid-afternoon screening time.
I know she’s faking the sudden recovery. Ignoring and bottling all the hurt. But even being able to pretend she’s not dying inside takes a level of strength beyond my comprehension. I bet she doesn’t realize how incredible she is. How fucking remarkable.
If only she’d finally break down and face her past—completely—then maybe she might start to recover instead of merely providing herself with distractions.
“What movie are we watching today?” she asks from the outstretched recliner.
“We could try the second half of the superhero movie you checked out on two days ago.”
I didn’t continue watching without her. I changed the channel as soon as she fell asleep. Not that the viewing is anything more than a lullaby. She usually passes out like clockwork within thirty minutes.
Those moments have been the highlight of my existence. Her content face. Her relaxed, slightly parted lips. Her beauty.
Fuck.
I need to get out of this house. Hit the shooting range. Spar the fuck out of a worthy opponent.
But I won’t leave her or bring anyone over here she’s not comfortable with. I’m stuck in this tempting isolation. My blue balls are the size of gorilla nuts.
I turn on the movie and lie across the sofa, my attention on her from the corner of my eye—the long, dark hair splayed across the recliner as she rests her head back.
I don’t focus on the screen as the actors do their thing, blowing up buildings and shooting up shit. I stare at her, fast becoming entranced by how fucking gorgeous she is as those lashes flutter closed.
It’s such a sinking feeling of helplessness, watching someone battle an invisible enemy. If she had a physical wound, I could tend to it. I’d make sure any injuries were stitched to perfection. I’d be meticulous in applying new dressings. And when the site healed, I’d make sure she used the very best scar-lightening creams on her delicate skin.
I’d do anything.
Everything.
But she’s not struggling with a physical injury. There are no men to hunt down or kill. Her fight is internal. Entirely out of reach.
All I can do is be patient. I’ve always been good at that.
Until now.
Until her.
The vibration of the cell in my back pocket breaks my trance.
I retrieve the device, the preview of a message from Sarah on the screen—Open your front door, I’ve just pulled…
Jesus. She’s here.
The bitch had been smart enough to keep her distance after I spoke to Torian. That gossip grapevine is effective in these parts. Too bad she didn’t have the smarts to stay away too.
I type back—Fuck off. Penny is asleep.
I don’t want her here. I’m done letting her report back to Decker. If he wants answers about his sister, he can ask during the daily phone calls I have to endure. I’m not opening the damn door. She can crawl back into the hole she came from.