“I love you, Lach. I need to think. Or talk to someone other than you”—her voice dissolved into a tearful laugh—“about that night. Some assault victims … some of us … we carry trauma for years. We don’t let the pain out in a healthy way. And maybe … I didn’t express it well because I poured myself into loving you?”
Ouch. That cut deep. Surgical, a scalpel to the chest. I bled out in silence. “Natasha, gimme a second.” I climbed to my feet, bat dragging in the dirt. Walked the cage’s perimeter. Reached the machine and flipped the switch. Silence fell. A heavy, final kind of silence. I leaned on the machine, forearm against the metal. Head bowed. “Listen to me.”
“I am, Lach.”
“I’m gonna let you go for now,” I whispered. “You keep your options open if that’s what you need to do, Natasha.” My eyes crushed closed, and I hated how her face danced into view. “I’m a grown man. I know what I desire. With every part of me, lassie,I want ye.” I swallowed hard. “I’ll wait for you.”
But why did letting her go feel like dying?
Like I’d hit every home run in my career just to strike out in the one inning that mattered.
25
NATASHA
“Keepyour options open if that’s what you need to do, Natasha.” Pain bled through the receiver, gutting me as Lachlan spoke. “I’m a grown man. I know what I desire. With every part of me, lassie,I want ye. I’ll wait for you.”
His voice echoed in my soul long after the call ended. With tears blurring my vision and my heart flickering like a camera shutter in burst mode, I fumbled to hang up. Instead of silence to process my actions, Selena y Los Dinos’s “Como La Flor” spilled from the bathroom speakers and echoed off the burnt orange walls of the ladies’ room. A cruel token for my grief.
I leaned over the sink, scooped cold water into my palms, and splashed my face. I had yet to listen to Lachlan’s calls or read his texts.Tash, you know Lach didn’t cheat.But that wasn’t the issue, was it?
Stupid paparazzi propaganda was. Always would be.
And I’d finally told him what happened. Finally allowed him to see the girl behind the lens. Me—all of me.
And then the world tilted. Every whisper of doubt, every scared part of me screamed that I was dirty, unworthy, unlovable. So, I did what survivors do best.
I retreated.
Not because he hurt me. But because I remembered what it felt like when the Russian hurt me.
I patted my makeup-free face with a paper towel, which had the exfoliating consistency of cardboard. Drawing in a shaky breath, I started for the door when my phone rang again. I answered without censoring the call.
Dumb. At Lorenzo’s smooth voice, I internally cringed and hid in the bathroom stall. “Hey, Enzo.”Tash, why you answering Military GQ?
This man didn’t own a just-friends bone in his body. Why didn’t I block his number?
“I hear music.”
Of course he did. Which meant Lachlan had heard it too, and he probably thought I wanted a hot girl summer. “Look, I’m out with friends … they want to?—”
“Have you act out of character after a breakup?” He chuckled, then murmured, “Buoni amici.”
Good …friends? Yep, that was what he’d said. “Enzo, I’m not the type to allow emotions to …”encourage me to do anything dumber than what I just did. Bottom lip wobbling, I pulled it between my teeth. Tight. The pain made me stronger. “I don’t have a heart in my chest right now. I gave it away already. I’m not that type. You’ll keep trying, I can tell. So, maybe … you shouldn’t call me anymore.”
Silence pressed in. “You’ve misjudged me, Natasha.” The way he spoke my name caused tingles to cascade down my body. Tingles I didn’t ask for. “I just want to be your friend.”
“Mm-hmm …”
“I miss your laugh when we went to see that movie. Let’s watch another? Even a man-bashing movie.” His laughter coaxed me to comply. I didn’t.
I shook my head.Uh-uh. Not after what happened before.Kissing him? It had been amazing, but I blamed the rom-com and all that charming Italian face energy. I’d been wrapped up in the moment. Needed to see if I felt a spark.Nope. Didn’t feel it. I sighed. “You want to please me, Enzo? You might be waiting forever.”
“Fine. I respect your wishes. Time is on my side.” The challenge in his sensual Italian accent became tangible. I almost envisioned the intensity in his features and prayed for strength while I hung up.
Answering Lorenzo? Big mistake. I swiped tissue to push through the graffiti-tagged stall door, then exited the bathroom. I stopped at the sight of women, knees tucked together, some doing the potty dance.
Arms folded, I glared at my Shadow. Rectangular head, the whitest blond hair, thin lips, and a tactical jacket that hugged raw muscle. My eyes stared holes into his smashed nasal bone. Honestly, it looked that way before I slugged him after Christmas when I’d asked him to stop following me. He just looked so afraid of my father, and I wanted him to be afraid of me. I doubted it hurt, though. “Borya, you didn’t.”
