Up in Smoke - Tessa Bailey Page 0,24
he’d definitely crossed the line into hell.
Don’t go there, man. You want to keep her? You want to help? Do it the right way.
She cocked a hip, looking suspicious. “What do you want to talk about?”
He lowered himself onto the couch and nodded toward the other end. “Sit?”
“Hmm.” She hopped onto the couch’s arm and crossed her legs, making her look like some kind of punk-rock fairy. The view of her thighs did exactly zero to help his situation. “Just know that if this starts to feel like a psychiatrist appointment, I’ve clocked all the available exits.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
She draped herself over the cushions. “Are you going to show me inkblots? Spoiler alert. I see fire. Lots of it.”
“Why?”
“It erases things. Both good and bad. It’s reliably destructive.” She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Like me,” she whispered.
He knew her game. Saw right through it. The crazy girl act she performed to a T. While he knew it wasn’t entirely a game, he knew it was her way of deflecting. Sort of like his savior, detachment, only in a different form. “Erin, this is important so I need you to answer me seriously.” He felt a familiar anger settle in his gut. “You said someone is trying to trap you. I need to know who it is.”
“Why?” She fidgeted with her hair. “I told you not to ask me about it anymore.”
“If I don’t know, I can’t keep you safe.”
“I keep myself safe.”
Connor held on to his patience. “Why won’t you tell me?”
“Because if I tell you, it makes him real,” she burst out. “I’m just dandy pretending he’s not.”
“He.” Connor’s hands curled into fists. “An ex-boyfriend?” God help the pitiful fucker.
“I don’t do boyfriends.”
He ignored the sweeping relief because it was pointless. The threat still existed, even if it wasn’t a man she’d been with romantically. “Well, you have one now and he wants to protect you.”
Erin tilted her head. “You’re my boyfriend?” She straightened. “Can we get matching Segways?”
God, how could she make him want to laugh and shout at the same time? Deep breath. If he wanted her to confide in him, he might have to give her a reason. It was nice knowing you, detachment. “You have to be near a window, right? You need to know how fast an escape you can make.”
She propped her chin on a bent wrist. “Go on.”
“Windows make me nervous. I don’t like weak spots. Don’t like people looking in at what’s mine.” He shifted on the couch. “If it’s too early to call you mine, that can’t be helped. It’s a feeling, not a mark on a timeline.” Dammit, he couldn’t read her expression. She looked almost puzzled. “I understand why you need the windows, Erin. But I’m asking for curtains. I need to know someone isn’t going to see you through the window and pull you out. Away from me.”
“Oh.”
Patience. “Just oh?”
She shrugged. “We have conflicting views on windows. Get it? Views.”
“Erin.”
“Curtains, huh?” Her right foot started to jiggle. “You want to keep me hidden.”
“Only until the threat goes away. If you tell me what it is, I can make that happen.”
Erin rose and went to go stand by the window. She looked out but didn’t appear to be seeing anything on the other side. The unfocused expression he’d seen last night was back, only this time she seemed more thoughtful. “You can’t make him go away. I tried. He’s inflammable.”
Connor frowned. “How do you know that?”
Her gaze cut to his. “I set his house on fire while he was inside it. You still want to be my roommate?”
“Yes.” He made sure to say it without hesitation. Should he be hesitating? Probably. She’d just admitted to arson. His only excuse was a bone-deep feeling that she’d had a driving reason. And what kind of a hypocrite would he be for judging her actions? After what he’d done, he didn’t have the right to judge anyone. “Who is he?”
“My stepfather.” She sounded numb. “Is our hour up yet, doc?”
He’d gotten more out of her than expected. He should call it a wrap for now, but he needed to know one more thing. Needed to know what physical and mental scars she was nursing, if he could potentially make it worse. If he did, he’d never forgive himself. “Almost.”
She must have sensed the seriousness in his tone because she closed her eyes, pressed her forehead against the window. God, he wanted to drag her away from it.