Dallas turns off the engine and just sits there for a second, hands on the wheel, jaw working like he’s biting back words.
“It’s okay,” I tell him. “It’s just one night. I can handle being alone for one night.”
He looks at me, and I hate how quickly my body reacts. Like his gaze is a hand, and the way his eyes rove over my face, I swear I can feel the heat of his skin on me.
After a moment, he exhales. “Fuck me, Luce, but if I don’t know you’re safe, I can’t do what I have to do. You get me?”
I guess. “If you say so. But it’s not like I’m going to have another accident.” I quirk my lips, going for a teasing smile. “The Fortress is too well protected. I won’t jump, and it’s not like someone is going to break in and push me or something.”
Even as I say that, a shiver runs down my spine. Last night, I had a dream that I was standing at an unfamiliar window. A silhouette of a man reached around me, sliding it open, claiming he needed air. I didn’t doubt him, but I should have because, suddenly, he was shoving me with such force that I was tumbling, falling,crashing?—
I reach out with a shaky hand, my fingers landing on his thigh. “I can stay home. We don’t have to bother your friend. Or, even better, I can come with you. You won’t have to worry about me if I’m there, and I won’t be any trouble. Promise.”
Dallas’s head falls back against the headrest. “I want to. Shit… I want to keep you with me always. I learned my lesson, Dandelion. I said no more separation and I mean it. But this… this is work. I have to take care of it. You’ll be better off here.”
Maybe he’s right. And, in a way, I’m glad that he’s decided that it’s time for him to reacquaint me with some of the otherpeople that are important to him. I haven’t met anyone other than Adrian, though I’ve heard so much about his wife, Loni, who actually works with Adrian in the Fortress. Then there’s Sebastien—or Bas, as Dallas calls him—who owns the Reynolds Garage where Dallas works. He’s married, too, to a woman named Annaliese. And then there’s Dallas’s buddy, Connor. He’s the one who offered to keep my company, alongside his wife, Haven.
Only there’s something going on here. Dallas spent the last couple of weeks insisting I stay in the penthouse. Now that he needs to do this emergency overnight work trip, I thought he’d convince his friend to stay with me at home. Nope. Connor’s wife hates leaving their home more than Dallas hates the idea of me leaving the penthouse and, well, here we are.
Turning slightly, he takes the hand I kept on his thigh. His palm is warm, rough, and scarred with that strange mark of his. The pressure is steady, though, and more grounding than I would’ve expected.
“I’ll be back in the morning,” he tells me. “But if something happens and you want me to come back here, I will. If you want me to pick you up and take you home to the Fortress, I will. If you want me to?—”
“Dallas,” I whisper.
He goes still.
I swallow. My throat feels too tight for the words, but I force them out anyway. “I’m being childish. If you trust your friend and his wife, then that’s enough for me. I’m sure I’ve met them before?—”
“Connor, yes. Haven… they’ve only been together for two years.”
I frown. “But we were only estranged for less than that.” That’s what he told me. “And we never met?”
Another exhale. “No. Haven… there was some trouble before she got with Connor. Like you, she has some trauma. Connor is very protective of her.”
“No wonder you’re such good friends. You seem to have that in common, at least.”
Dallas’s lips twitch. “Yeah. You can say that. And I’m hoping that you and Haven will get along.”
Because we have being broken in common, I guess.
When I don’t say anything—or try to convince him again to let me go with him—he squeezes my hand once more, then releases it and climbs out of the truck.
Chilly air rushes in when he goes around to my side and opens my door before helping me out onto the gravel driveway. It’s late August, but the night is crisp and damp, the smell of wet leaves clinging to everything after the last few days of rain.
He touches my lower back when we walk up the steps. He knocks once, then opens the door without waiting for anyone to answer.
It’s warm inside. Clean, but lived-in. There’s a coat draped over the back of a chair, a pair of boots by the door, and the faint smell of coffee and something spiced in the air. Cinnamon, maybe. I like it.
A woman stands in the hallway.
She’s pretty in a way that doesn’t feel intentional. Medium brown hair that falls past her shoulders, pale skin, big eyes that look like they’ve seen too much. She wears an oversized sweater and leggings, her bare feet on the hardwood floor.
And, as though her husband warned her about me, she’s staring at me like she’s trying to decide what kind of broken I am.
Dallas shifts slightly beside me, his body angling in front of mine protectively. As if I could be afraid of this woman…
“Hello, Haven.”
