“I—no, I’m not having this conversation to your back.Ineedto see your face. I’m getting up and helping you to the bathroom. Then we’ll talk,” he commands.
Rising, he comes around the bed, lifts me and carries me to the bathroom. “Call out when you’re done and I’ll come back.”
I’m still trying to get my bearings straight when there’s a tap on the door.
“It’s seven, you want coffee or tea?”
“Coffee.” Lots and lots of coffee. I’m afraid this is going to be a painful encounter.
Okay, so we’re having this conversation. I can do this. I’m an adult. Damn, what if he rejects me? Dismisses my feelings?
You’ll deal with it. You’ve wanted this forever, go for it and quit stalling.
After I finish and haphazardly run a comb through my hair and brush my teeth, I’m more prepared to take on the world. Or at least my dream world. I open the door. “I’m done. Can you bring me my crutch?”
He looks up from placing a cup of coffee on the end table. Crossing to me he lifts me bridal style and places me on the couch, slipping the padded foot stool under my calves and leaning my crutch beside me.
“I’ll be right back.”
When he returns, he’s grabbed his own mug of coffee and sits on the fireplace hearth across from me.
“I checked with the office. They monitored our security all night and it’s all clear.”
“Are they monitoring the inside too?”
“No. As long as there are no breaches. They’ll monitor the door opening and closing in case we’re caught by surprise, or turn all monitors on if we hit a code red. But what we say or do once we’re locked inside is just us.”
I nod and take a fortifying sip of my coffee.
He studies his own for a moment before meeting my gaze. “This is a stressful time for you. You’ve been attacked for the second time causing more critical injuries and you’re back in protective custody. Your brother, your rock, can’t be here because he’s deployed. You’re at the mercy of strangers again.”
I choke back my rebuttals, knowing that a planned, thought-out contradiction is required. He’s worked this all out in his mind. My response must be equally strategic.
“You’re scared and feeling vulnerable. For a woman with as much drive as you, that must be frustrating. I’m the only known in your life right now. Not unlike Stockholm syndrome. You’re fixating on me for security...and emotional support.”
“I see your point.” I take a deliberate sip of my coffee and watch the tension leave his shoulders. He thinks he’s made his argument for us staying platonic. “This is very helpful to get the facts and information out there. I appreciate your concerns and insight.”
He meets my gaze, nods, and releases a breath as if he’s won the battle.
I smile. “And I call bullshit.”
He stiffens, gaze flying to mine.
“I fell in love with you when I was sixteen. I chalked it up to infatuation. But infatuation wanes with time. My feelings for you have only grown. I know the difference. I took a few psych classes in college.
“I know you blame yourself for Allen hurting me the first time. And for this latest attack.
“Again, I call bullshit.
“Allen attacked me, twice. Willingly and without remorse because he wanted to. You can blame yourself, but with or without you, he’s a ticking bomb and would have done something sooner or later. After all, I’m the one who got away.
“I won’t be surprised when your company really starts accumulating the dirt on him that I am not the only person he’s physically hurt. Maybe even killed. With or without you he would have tried something. I pissed him off when I told him to get out and not come back. The proof is his second attack. He had to come after me again because I didn’t pay the ultimate price. I didn’t die the first time.” I pause, realizing what I just said is the truth. It was in his eyes the day he pushed me down the stairs. The pure hatred.
Taking a sip of my coffee, I shake off the shock of that realization.
Glancing at Hawke, I see his jaw grind, his shoulders tense. The way he’s clutching his coffee mug I’m afraid it will shatter. “He will never fucking touch you again.
My heart does a flip and my body relaxes. It’s there, all there in his posture, his words, gaze.
