I knew it. Deep down, I knew he’d been put up to this. Nobody was as nice and caring as he was pretending to be. Especially not to someone he barely knew. That shit just wasn’t possible. I’d fallen right into his pity trap, telling him all about my dad and my struggles, and he’d fed me some ridiculous bullshit about moments with me making life worth living. I’d gobbled it all up like I was starving for his stupid attention. I was such a goddamn fool. “You should leave.”
“She asked me to help you, but that’s not why I’m here.”
I’d heard about all I could handle. “Doesn’t matter. Please go.” As soon as he was out the door, I planned to pack up my shit and get the hell out of there. I had no idea how I’d get my suitcases down the stairs, but I’d manage. Then I’d get in my car and drive. Maybe clear to the east coast. I just needed to get away from everyone and everything and figure shit out.
“No.”
Shocked, I stared at him. “What do you mean, ‘No’? This is my room and I want you to leave. Go.”
“No. I’m not going anywhere. You have some fucked-up narrative going on in your head right now, and I’m not leaving until I set you straight.”
I met his hard stare. “It’smyroom, and I don’t want you here. You don’t have a choice.”
“What are you afraid of? That I’ll make it worse? Or that I’ll fix it?”
Were these his go-to questions to always get his fucking way? If I had two good hands and a pair of boxing gloves, I’d lay his ass out so fast he wouldn’t know what hit him. Instead, I had to make do with one hand and two months of bottled up rage and frustration. I poured every ounce of it into my response. “Fuck you, Stocks.”
“I’d love to fuck you, but we need to have a conversation, first. I need to make sure your back, hips, and whatever else they operated on are okay. Which is why I stopped this from escalating. I want to fuck you so damn bad that my balls ache, but I refuse to hurt you.”
Oh, now he wanted sex? It was a little too late for that. “So, you are a club whore after all. Good to know you’ll go all the way to earn that coveted helper badge, boy scout.”
He quirked a smile, which only managed to infuriate me more. “If that’s what you need me to be.”
Why couldn’t he argue with me? Why did he have to turn everything around to be so fucking nice? “I hate you so much right now.”
“No, you don’t. You don’t understand me. I’m a mystery that you can’t solve and it’s driving you crazy.”
He was right, but if he thought I’d admit that, he was high. “Oh yeah? What’s so mysterious aboutyou?”
“My motivation for wanting to help you. You think it’s Naomi, or that I’m obligated to punch some sort of good deed card, but that’s not it at all.”
“Like you’d tell me if it was.”
“I haven’t lied to you yet. It would make no sense to start now. Yes, your friend is worried about you, because that’s what friends do, but I was already looking for an excuse to come see you when she approached me.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“That’s your problem. All I know is that six months ago, I was lucky enough to spend the night with a queen. She could have chosen any man at that party, yet she picked me for some reason. I was at a low point in my life and she came in and rocked my fuckin’ world. She made me want to be more than some wounded Marine trying to survive this battlefield.” He stepped closer, settling his hands on my shoulders and our gazes locked. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night. When Naomi told me what happened to you… of course I want to help you. You helped me. More than you’ll ever know.”
That took the wind out of my sails. Deflated and feeling like a total fraud, I replied, “I’m not the same woman I was back then.”
“Bullshit.”
His harsh tone caught me off guard. Recovering, I held up my stump of an arm. He’d set me on some sort of pedestal, and he needed to face the fact that I didn’t belong there. “Do I look like a fucking queen to you?”
“Yes.” His expression softened. “I get that you’re hurt and your kingdom’s been taken away, but that doesn’t make your blood any less royal. I remember who the fuck you are, babe, even if you don’t. That’s why I’m here.” He raised his hands to the top of my head and gently pressed down on my braids.
“What are you doing?”
“Straightening your crown; the bastard’s on crooked.”
It was too much.
Stocks was holding on to an image of me that was no longer real. I’d always been a go-down-with-the-ship kind of gal, and my life had sunk. I was treading water like a motherfucker, but this wasn’t a sustainable answer. I was exhausted, and sooner or later, I’d drown.
I needed a life raft.
If I had any chance of keeping my promise to Naomi and trying to recover, I needed help. I couldn’t do this on my own, and I had my very own boy scout here offering to throw me a rope. I didn’t know how to feel about that, but I was too wrecked to answer.
