Page 154 of On the Breakaway

“No, because–”

“Avery,” I say, sharp enough that she stops talking. I drag a hand down my face. “I am not him.”

She finally stops pacing as I continue, “I didn’t plan to crash your lunch. I don’t care that you’re friends with Liam.”

Her mouth opens. “I wasn’t–”

“Yes, you were.” I nod. “You walked through my front door ready for a fight that I have no plans on having.”

A flash of guilt crosses her face before the stubbornness returns.

“Well, maybe because you were acting weird and then you just walked away.”

“I was acting hurt.”

Her shoulders tense. “You said we’d take things slow. One date at a time. You said I could figure things out, and then suddenly you’re pissed because I was confused and venting and–"

I reach across the island and lace my hand around hers. She goes still, and I can see the fight drain out of her.

Tonight, she expected the kind of cruelty she’s come to associate with relationships. She walked into my apartment as if she were prepared for battle, thinking that if she struck first, I wouldn’t be able to hurt her.

My heart aches for the woman who’s been taught that arguing means mass destruction.

“Avery.”

Her eyes finally meet mine.

“You might think you need to come in here with guns blazing.” She frowns as I continue,

“I’m not interested in that. I’m not trying to win a fight or hurt you. You don’t have to defend yourself to me.”

My thumb brushes across the inside of her wrist.

“I’m confused.” Something vulnerable flashes across her face. “Aren’t you mad?”

“Yeah.”

I watch as my honesty sinks in.

“Then why are you being so calm?”

Because I’m falling harder for her than I understand, and none of this feels like something worth destroying.

“Because I can be pissed off with you and still respect you.” I squeeze her hand lightly. “I can be frustrated with you without treating you like shit.”

The words hang there.

Neither of us says Damon’s name because we don’t have to. The realization hits her painfully, as if she’s seriously never considered that it doesn’t have to be the way she’s always experienced it.

Her eyes drop to where I’m still holding her hand, and all the fire she came here with is doused with uncertainty.

“Come here.” I tug gently on her hand.

She lets me pull her across the apartment to the couch, looking more nervous with each step we take. I settle onto the couch beside her, leaving enough space that she doesn’t feel cornered.

“Do you even know what actually upset me?”

Avery looks over. “I thought I did.”