Page 109

“Uh, well, hello to you, too,” I mutter.

“How are you, baby?” He’s studying me, cradling my cheek in his hand as his eyes roam over my face, searching for the truth. I wonder if he can see past all the lies and bullshit I’ve been telling myself and him.

I think he can.

It sure as hell feels like he can.

“I’m fine, Dalton.”

“My ass,” he says, shaking his head and I roll my eyes, letting out a sigh as I try to pull myself out of his arms. He doesn’t let me.

“I said I’m fine and I meant it.”

“Bullshit,” he spits back, his blue eyes locking onto mine before he looks up and scans the kitchen. “Did you eat?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“What did you eat?” He’s looking around the kitchen again and I pray that he doesn’t look towards the dining room table where the sandwich I only managed to eat two bites of sits.

No such luck.

He clocks the plate of uneaten food and shoots me a look.

“I wasn’t that hungry.”

He tilts his head to the side, his eyes narrowing. “Funny. You were able to eat when we were back at the clubhouse.”

I wrench myself out of his arms and walk over to the table, scooping up the plate of food. “Don’t start.”

“Fine,” he answers, shutting the apartment door and locking it before turning back to me. I let out a sigh as I take the plate over to the trash and dump the uneaten sandwich inside. He watches me, all the way to the sink, where I set the plate down and turn on the water.

“You want something else to eat?” he asks, coming up behind me and caging me in against the counter with his hands braced on either side of me. “We could order take-out and watch a movie.”

“Oh, so you’re staying then?” I ask, turning the water off and spinning around so we’re face to face. He nods.

“Yes.”

I sigh. “Dalton-”

“Not up for debate, sweetheart,” he fires back, cutting me off before I can even fully voice my objection. The determined look in his eyes tells me to not even fight it.

I can’t do that, though.

“You do not need to stay with me all day.”

He scoffs. “Baby, I’m staying with you until we figure out who did this and make sure they can never get to you again.”

“What if it was random, Dalton?” I ask him, finally voicing the thought that has been circling my brain for the last three days.

How many women get drugged in a nightclub by a stranger?

The number has to be astronomical.

He nods. “And what if it wasn’t?”

“We can’t know for sure. So, it’s best if we just go back to normal and live our lives.”

“I’m staying.” The conviction in his voice is absolute. This is a losing battle and I know it. And yet, I grasp at threads, trying anything to feel like what happened Wednesday night didn’t really happen.