Unleashing Sin - A. M. Wilson Page 0,54

fuck am I doing here?

A shift in our tumultuous … relationship? Is that what this is? Whatever the fuck it’s called doesn’t matter. It’s a man helping a woman. A shy, gorgeous, spirited, healing, tempting woman. But even as hardheaded as I am, I can’t deny the fact that something is happening between us.

Something I’m not even sure I want.

A sweet little thing like her could never want an asshole like me. That’s a damn fact. Add into the mix that I’m a scary as hell brute of a man. She deserves better. She needs more. She needs flowers and dates and fuckin’ wooing. She needs a man who’s capable of locking down his temper. A man who uses pretty words and soft tones. A man who knows he’s damn lucky to have her affection and stands at her side with pride. Someone who knows the horrors she’s seen, embraces all sides of her, and says and does the right things to help her heal.

That man sure as hell isn’t me.

I’m frightening.

Tough.

Blunt.

Rigid and cold.

I hold anger like a shroud.

And I sure as fuck don’t know how to whisper sweet nothings.

Yet ... there’s something there.

Something soft and warm. Comforting. Something that helps whisk away my own demons. Molly. Pop. It makes me forget my own horrors. Healed me from the drugs and booze.

That something is Shelby. One hundred fuckin’ percent all her. And as much as I tell myself she deserves better, the truth of the matter is I don’t deserve her. Not one iota.

Inside me, I crave her goodness. One kiss blasted my defenses into a million pieces. But we both know I’m not made of good stuff. I’m not the man she needs to get through her own demons.

A knock on the door interrupts my self-loathing, and I run a hand down my tired face. On the other side of the door is Elias, holding the manila folder I asked him to bring over.

“Yo,” I grunt and reach for the papers he holds out to me.

I don’t miss the glance he spears across the open space. “All good?” His tone is cautious, probably always will be when it comes to Shelby. I know he’s seen the change in us the past couple of weeks. He trusts me with her. Something he couldn’t do in the beginning.

“Yeah.” I shut the door behind him and resume my place on the couch. “Rough afternoon. Thanks for picking this up.”

Elias looks at my closed bedroom door. He lounges on the couch beside me and rests his right ankle on his left knee. “Not a problem. Anything I should know about?” He nods his head toward the folder in my lap.

“Insurance shit. From Pop’s place. I haven’t had a chance to look at it, but I’m probably going to be shit outta luck on the claims seein’ as I don’t have that first fuckin’ clue what possessions he had. No way to verify either seein’ as everything went up in flames.”

“Shit,” he mutters.

“Yeah.”

“Want to talk about what happened today?” His eyes tense a bit as though he wants to say more or demand answers from me, but he locks it down.

I blow out a sigh. “Man. It’s two steps forward, three steps back.”

“How so?”

I tilt my head to the side to see him better. “We were makin’ progress today. Talked some shit out. Went to the store because she’s finally starting to put on weight. Out in public, she was amazing. Incredible even. Facin’ those fears and lockin’ them down tight. And then I remembered the papers.” I lift said papers and toss them on the coffee table. “Decided to cut through downtown and she lost it. I pulled over until she was calm and reassured her that we’d just drive through. Pushed her, like I always do. And she was doing so well. Until she wasn’t.” I scrub a hand down my face in frustration.

“What went wrong?” he asks, mirroring my position with a hand on his chin.

“She saw someone she knew. A friend.”

“Like from before?” His voice is low. Cautious.

“No. A prostitute. And suddenly, she was repulsed in herself for leaving them and begging me to stop the car. What I could not do is stop the fuckin’ car. Someone could have seen her. I want those fuckers to believe she died on my doorstep that day.”

Elias stands and runs a hand over his hair in frustration. “Do you have a plan?”

I hesitate. It goes to show how well he knows me,