Pushing up on his feet as far as his stubby legs wouldallow him, he leaned in the final distance so he was sure only I could hear him. “That’s because she’s a woman who needs to hear the man she loves say he loves her back. Even when she says it’s not necessary. That’s what women do. They take the loads, carry the burden. Before you make any decisions to do what you’re thinking about doing, you should at least try and tell her how you feel. Maybe it could be something for her to take away from all this.”
“I can’t tell her I love her, Harry.” I shook my head violently, my jaw setting almost as tightly as my heart did. If there was one thing I knew for certain, it was that I couldn’t say those words to Ayda.
“Why not?”
Locking eyes with his, I swallowed again, my face scrunching up as I bared my fucking soul.
“Because if I start saying it now, I’ll never stop, and she won’t ever have the life she deserves.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ayda
Happiness.
It was a word I thought I understood before my parents died, but it slipped through my fingers after their murder; an emotion I thought I’d experienced often, and a state of mind that I wasn’t always sure I would return to. These were areas Drew clarified for me on a daily basis. With him, I understood the full extent of the word and everything it had to offer. It was an emotion I felt every time I was in his company, every time he touched me or smiled at me. It was like a thousand fireflies tickling the lining of my stomach, waiting to be set free. When I looked at him, when I thought ahead to our future together, it was something I knew was waiting for me as long as I was with him.
He was wrong about my wanting to change him. I wasn’t sure where he’d come up with the notion, and in all honesty, I didn’t care. I knew myself, and I knew my daydreams. In every future I’d made for us, he was the man he’d always been—formidable, strong, scary as hell and loyal to a fault. We fought because we were passionate people; we argued because we were both hardheaded and convicted in our beliefs and opinions. Even with our differences, I knew we were right for one another. He was the dark to my light. We workedbecause we were so different.
Drew and I were tinder and flame. All I had to do was look his way and he consumed my thoughts, and every memory of our nights together would drag me under the surface until I was drowning in need. I’d never felt that with anyone before him, and part of me knew I never would again. I didn’t care how many times we fought or disagreed—I knew that would never change.
I took a shower and stripped the mud-caked blankets and pillows from the bed before remaking it hastily. Collapsing on top of it with my earphones in, I closed my eyes and shut out the world as I tried to find some center of balance again. The dulcet tones of some of my favorite singers wrapped around me and I let my mind wander into the maybes of the future. We’d had another fight. Yes, another, but this one was different. He’d never slammed walls down on me before.
I must have searched for answers for hours before the realization slapped me so hard it had me gripping my chest.
That son of a bitch.
How the hell could I have been so blind?
Was it really that simple?
I flopped on the bed until I was on my stomach and crawled to the edge, hopping off as my mind formulated the plan I had to finally get his full attention. It was risky and probably cruel, but I had to prove a point. He needed to open his eyes for a change rather than acting as though he knew what was best for me and us. I needed him to listen to what I was saying. I was an adult. I knew my own mind, and I wasn’t going to have it made up for me. I just had to figure out whether or not I was going to get burned in the process.
I paced in front of the dresser several times, gnawing onmy cuticles before I finally found the guts to so much as open the drawer where I’d hidden it. I bought the damn thing after the fire, when we went to the city to replace some things and get us some clothes. I didn’t know what I was thinking at the time, and pulling it out, I still wasn’t sure. As much as I trusted him, we hadn’t ever needed something like this. We still didn’t, but there were quite a few men in that room.
My hand moved to my stomach as the nerves ate me alive. It was either going to work like a dream or make matters worse. I wasn’t entirely sure which, but Mom had always said some risks were worth taking when it was something worth fighting for. She probably didn’t have this in mind, but I figured it was open to interpretation.
It didn’t take me long to get ready. The lace lining the satin barely brushed my thighs, and as I stood looking in the mirror of my private bathroom, I realized the top was almost entirely made up of lace. I looked like an expensive whore.
Sucking in a deep breath, I rushed to the door and unlocked it as I rolled my shoulders back and held my head high.
If I could have pushed myself out, I would have. It took everything I had to walk from that room and down the hall to the main room of The Hut. For a while, I thought I’d managed to get away unnoticed, but the din of the conversation died like a blanket being pulled over them and all eyes turned to me.
I was an absolute idiot.
My eyes scanned the room frantically and found Drew exactly where I’d left him. Harry was behind the bar, both hands flat on the surface, his arms rigid as he gave me a once over, blinking like he’d just been stung by a bee. Then he leaned in and said something to Drew, and I held my breath.
Drew’s frown was immediate, and I saw him mouth something to Harry before he eventually turned his attention on me. When he had to do a double take, narrowing his eyes as they held mine before he let them trail all the way to my feet and back up again, I thought he was going to at least say something. But then he glanced back at Harry, dropped his hand to his face and started scrubbing wildly, and I was left standing there, alone.
I’d known it wasn’t going to be easy. Drew was Drew after all. The thing he didn’t count on was me being more stubborn than he ever could be. Moving with slow confidence, I started toward the bar, my steps deliberate, even as my heart was ready to beat from my chest. When I finally reached Drew, I flashed Harry the most confident smile I could manage, doing the best I could not to look at Drew.
“Hey, Harry, you have a bottle of Tequila back there I can have? I’ll replace it tomorrow.”
Harry pushed off the bar, but stayed put, his eyes fixed on Drew out of respect, waiting for a response. I was pretty sure I was making every guy in the place uncomfortable, but I had my sights set on only one of them.
Drew held his pose. His hand never moved as it covered his temple, but I felt and saw every bit of tension in his forearms. The skin across his knuckles was still bleeding and the bruising across his face already looked worse. Lifting his free hand, he flicked it in the air at Harry, obviously some silent communication I wasn’t allowed to understand taking place.
Whatever it was, Harry moved back to reach for the bottle of Tequila, turning back around and keeping hold of it as he looked between the two of us like we were two ticking timebombs.
