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Besides, she might just need more time.
No matter what she said, he knew he’d had a part to play in tonight’s events. He should have checked that she’d told Loki everything. Then pressed her on why she didn’t want to tell him.
It was a reminder that he still didn’t know the two of them all that well.
He drove into the driveway of her house and turned off his truck before climbing out. Walking around, satisfaction filled him when he opened the door and found she hadn’t moved.
“Good girl,” he murmured, making her shuffle around on her seat.
He could tell that she liked being praised. That she liked to please people.
And she wasn’t coping well with knowing that Loki was upset with her.
After unbuckling her, he lifted her into his arms and carried her up the footpath. He waited while she grabbed her keys from her handbag. She’d kept hold of it all this time, it was one where the strap went across her chest.
Carrying her into the house, he set her down on the sofa and then sat on the coffee table to look at her.
She looked stressed.
Sad.
As mad as he was at himself, he was twice as fucking angry at Loki. How dare that fucker walk away like he had and leave her like this?
And then he’d gotten involved in a fight?
No. Some things were going to change. Remy got that Loki had his demons. He knew that he couldn’t understand them fully.
And he also knew that his girl was in the wrong for keeping things from him. Things that would upset him.
But Loki needed to put her first. That meant no running away and getting into fights when things got hard.
It meant staying and looking after their girl.
“Baby, talk to me.”
She shrugged, looking miserable.
“Do you want something to drink? Want me to draw you a bubble bath?”
“I don’t deserve a bubble bath.”
Shit. The guilt was hitting her hard.
“Baby, there’s nothing you could do that would mean you didn’t deserve a bubble bath.”
“That’s a nice sentiment, but I’m not sure I believe it. I don’t . . . I don’t feel like I deserve anything nice. I did this. Me. And now he’s out there, upset and maybe injured . . .” She sniffled.
“What should you have done differently?” he asked in a low, soothing voice.
“Told him everything. He’d still have been upset. But at least he wouldn’t feel like I’d been keeping things from him.”
Which she had been.
Tears dripped down her cheeks. Remy moved onto the sofa next to her and drew her onto his lap, holding her tight. They sat there for a long while until she stopped crying.
“God, I hate crying. It sucks. I don’t like getting all snotty and I bet I look like a fright.”
“You could never look like a fright.” He reached over and grabbed a tissue. Then tilting her head back, he wiped her cheeks.
