She doesn’t. Doesn’t even look back. Her shoulders stiffen, her pace quickens, and something ugly twists inside me. I reach out, catching her arm—not hard, just enough to stop her.
She spins on me instantly. “Let go.”
I do. Immediately. But I don’t move back. “You’re running.”
“I’m walking,” she snapped. “Away from you.”
“And that’s any different?” I ask. “Just throwing in the towel because I said one thing you didn’t like?”
“It wasn’t one thing,” she hisses. “You insulted my mother, how I am with my family. You insulted me.”
“I stated a fact.”
Her eyes flash fire. “No. You judged me because you were pissed off that my mother didn’t fawn over you the moment you met.”
I rake a hand through my hair, frustration simmering beneath my skin. “Who wouldn’t judge anyone who looked at another person like they were dirt? Like I wasn’t good enough to breathe your air.” And maybe I don’t deserve to breathe her air. I should let this go, here and now. I’ve allowed things in my family to be okay—things others would have a hard time processing. Even if I want to drag Dallen into that, I shouldn’t. She’s a lawyer, for crying out loud.
“She didn’t say anything?—”
“She didn’t have to,” I bite out. “Her face said enough.”
Dallen shakes her head, anger thinning her voice. “You don’t even know her. You don’t know me. But you’ve already decided I’m…what? A mummy-and-daddy’s girl who does whatever they tell me?”
Her words hit with the same weight as a slap. I exhale, slow and long. “If the shoe fits.” The moment the words slip from my lips, I regret them. They’re too sharp, too blunt, too fucking revealing of my own insecurities.
I’m not good enough for her. I know that, but it doesn’t mean I wantherto realize that, too.
Her jaw drops. “Wow. You really think that lowly of me? That I’m some…obedient little good girl who just nods at whatever my parents want?”
“Isn’t that what you’ve been doing your whole life?” I challenge. “They say jump, you ask how high. One chance meeting with your mother just now, and I know that’s the relationship you have with them. They push you toward some perfect man, and you entertain the idea. They say I’m wrong for you, you run.”
She steps close, fury radiating off her. She looks so fucking beautiful when mad—so goddamn sexy. I want to reach for her, push her up against the parked car beside us, and show her what she does to me. Instead, I fist my hands at my sides and force myself to calm the hell down.
“I didn’t run because of them. I ran because of you. Because you were being an ass.”
“I was being honest.”
“You were being a spiteful bastard, and I don’t need that in my life.”
I clench my jaw. Fuck. “Sometimes the truth hurts.”
Her eyes darken, hurt threading through the anger. Guilt digs claws beneath my ribs. But I power through it because the alternative—being vulnerable—is worse.
She folds her arms across her chest. “So that’s what you think I am? That I have no mind of my own? That I’m weak?”
“No,” I say, a bit too quickly. “That’s not?—”
“Yes,” she cuts in. “You do. You don’t think I can choose for myself.”
“Then prove me wrong,” I challenge before I can stop myself. “Stay. Don’t run because your mother frowned at me, and I was offended.”
“There it is.” She barks a humorless laugh. “You think she controls me, Stephen. But I’m a grown woman who can choose what I do with my life, no matter what you think after one interaction.”
“With a mother who still treats you like you’re fourteen.”
“And you think you get to judge that?”
“I think,” I say carefully, fury and fear warring within me, “that I don’t want to be with someone who lets her parents dictate her life.” I can’t be with someone like that. I need someone on my side, even if that side is sometimes the wrong one. Whoever I end up with has to have my back as much as I would have theirs.
