Page 90 of Wade’s Wrath

“No. It's fine,” she said, cutting him off.

“It doesn't sound fine,” he challenged.

“You said good,” she reminded.

“I know what I said,” he spat.

“Then apparently we're both clear,” she said. Fuck. She turned toward the hallway, and Wade followed her. Panic immediately filled him, and he had a sick feeling that he had just completely fucked up his life.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To pack,” she said.

He stopped. “What?”

“You want space, so I’m giving you space,” she said.

“I didn't say that you needed to leave,” he said.

She turned around. “You want me sleeping in your bed while I decide whether I want to be with you?” Wade opened his mouth and closed it. Harlow nodded. “Exactly.”

“You can stay here,” he offered.

“That makes no sense,” she insisted.

“It makes plenty of sense,” he argued.

“No, it makes sense to you because you want to push me away without actually letting me go anywhere,” she said.

Fuck. She knew him too well already. “Harlow.”

“I can't decide what I want while you're sleeping beside me every night,” she said.

Wade's temper snapped. “Fine.” She flinched. He saw it, and immediately regretted it. Still didn't take it back because apparently he had decided being a complete asshole was the best way to survive the morning. “Fine,” he repeated. “You want space? Take it.”

Her face hardened. “Gladly.” She disappeared into the bedroom, and Wade stood in the hallway. What the fuck was he doing? He should go after her. He should tell her he was scared or tell her the real problem wasn't that he thought she didn't want him. The problem was that he wanted her so fucking badly he didn't trust himself not to make it too easy for her to stay. But he didn't move, because if he went in there, he'd probably kiss her, and if he kissed her, this conversation was over. Wade returned to the kitchen and grabbed his coffee. It was cold, and it went perfectly with his mood.

Twenty minutes later, Harlow came back carrying one of the shopping bags she'd brought clothes home in earlier. Wade stared at it. “That's all your stuff?”

“I don't have much stuff,” she reminded.

He hated that sentence because it was another reminder of everything she'd lost. “Where are you going?”

“I don't know yet,” she admitted.

“No, that won’t work,” he said.

Her head snapped up, and she stared him down. “Excuse me?”

“You're not staying at some fucking motel,” he said.

Her eyes narrowed. “Interesting how quickly my freedom disappeared.”

“That's not what I meant,” he said.

“Then stop saying things like that,” she warned.

Wade clenched his jaw. “You're still in danger.”