Her stomach plunged.Because deep down, beneath the optimism and the stubborn cheer, she did.Someone wanted her rattled.Someone wanted her scared.
His tone softened.“Look, Chloe, I don’t want to scare you.”
“Then don’t.”
“I can’t lie to you either.”
Something in his voice tugged a thread loose inside her.She blinked quickly, refusing to cry.Panic she could manage.But crying?No thank you.She cried in private, in showers, in parking lots when she was PMSing, not in front of dangerously handsome men with Cajun accents and savior complexes.
His hand shifted on the wheel.“Chloe.”
She looked over.Mistake.His green eyes were warm and steady and impossibly understanding.
“You don’t have to pretend you’re okay for me.”
Her throat closed.It irritated her that he could see through her so easily.Worse, it made her feel safe.
“You don’t know me,” she whispered.
“I know enough.”
Her breath hitched.“What does that mean?”
He didn’t look away from the road, but his jaw flexed.“It means I see you,” he said quietly.“I see how strong you are.And how scared you are right now.Both can be true.”
Her chin wobbled.“I don’t want to be scared.”
“That’s fine.I’ll be scared for you.”
A weak laugh escaped her, part disbelief, part gratitude.She had a feeling this big, strong, unshakeable man feared nothing.“That’s not how fear works.”
“It’s exactly how protection works.”
Her eyes burned.Damn it.
The streetlights strobed across Kayne’s face, golden, then shadow, as if the universe couldn’t decide if it wanted to reveal him or keep him hidden.Fitting, since she couldn’t decide either.
She dragged her gaze back to the window, but her reflection gave her away: wide eyes, pinched mouth, the unmistakable sheen of fear she refused to show.
“Chloe,” he murmured, not quite a warning, not quite a plea.
“I’m fine,” she said again, gentler this time, because even she could hear the lie thinning at the edges.
His fingers flexed on the steering wheel.Not tense but controlled.Always controlled.“You keep saying that,” he said.“And all I hear is how not-fine you are.”
Heat crawled up her throat.“What do you want me to say?That I’m scared out of my mind?That I can’t stop replaying it?That I—” She bit the words off before they got reckless.
“That you trust me,” he finished softly.
Her pulse jolted.“Kayne ...”
“Cher, you grabbed onto me as if I were the only solid thing in the world.That’s trust.”
“That was survival.”
“Same thing.”
His voice slid under her defenses as if it had been built for that exact purpose.
