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"Bath bombs," he supplied, shrugging. "She gets stressed out, she needs a bath. Sometimes five times a day on a bad day. She likes these things. And you're going to want to get her her computer over at your place if she's not coming back here."
"Why?" I asked, putting the top back on the box, knowing that the little package he got her was more of her bomb things, pointing again to how well he knew her. Another little inexplicable surge of envy coursed through me and I actually had to remind myself that I would know her that well eventually.
And better.
At least I hoped.
"She has appointments with her shrink for one," he said, nodding to the computer in the corner. "Video chats. Though, I imagine she will be cancelling until her face is somewhat better. And, on top of that, she needs to be able to write and order the shit she needs. Since, you know, she can't leave."
"Right," I agreed, nodding slightly.
"She's afraid to come back, isn't she?" he asked, motioning around.
"I think so," I said, not entirely sure.
"It's all tainted. This stuff, it's her stuff. It was all perfect and how she needed it. Now it's all fucked. When this shit blows over, I'll make it up to her and pay to redo every last goddamn decorative thing," he said with fierceness, wanting to make it right so badly.
I bit my tongue to keep myself from saying that when it blew over, I was hoping she would be with me in a more permanent way. Because that shit was nuts.
He moved to walk toward the door, had his hand on the knob, but then turned back to me. "Mallick," he said, head tilted to the side. "Loanshark."
"Enforcer," I said, shrugging. Technically, my father was the actual loanshark.
"She deserves better," he said, and I knew he meant better than both of us, since he wanted her too.
"My dirt will never touch her," I said with so much conviction, it was practically a vow.
"Better not. 'Cause like it or not, I'm a part of her life and if I get even an inkling that you aren't treating her right, you and me... we're going to have a problem."
I nodded at that, respecting that stance more than he would know. "Understood," I said with a nod.
He went to turn away, but then turned back again. "Don't push her," he added and, on that, was gone.
I looked at the closed door for a long minute, hearing the elevator ding and knowing he was gone.
Don't push her.
I got that.
Mostly, I understood that.
But I didn't really agree with it either.
I couldn't pretend to understand what Dusty was going through and what Bry had dealt with at her side over the years, but I did know that simply accepting the condition as it was didn't help. You didn't need to push, but you needed to encourage change.
If he had stood beside her every day, bringing her whatever she needed and never trying to help her come back out of her shell, her apartment, her little personal prison, then he had, in a way, done more harm than good.
I didn't want to push her.
But I wanted to see her progress.
Not for me. Not because I wanted to bring her with me everywhere I went or that I wouldn't be content with seeing her at my place when I came home.
But for her. Because she deserved to have a life that didn't make her feel like she was constantly trapped, like she was surrounded by wolves that would consume her if she tried to step even a foot outside of her comfort zone.
See, the funny thing about comfort zones was, sometimes it was a gun. Sometimes it was a keepsake. Sometimes it was an entire apartment. But sometimes, oh sometimes, it could be a person.
And I was going to try like hell to prove to her that I could be that for her, that I would always be a safe place to land, that I could take her hand and lead her out and show her that those mother fucking wolves cowered down before me and they could never hurt her again.
Maybe it was too soon for that.
Maybe it was irrational to want to be that for someone you barely knew.
Maybe she didn't even want me to be that for her.
But regardless of all that, I was going to fucking try.TENDustyIt took him forever to make his phone call which, well, was none of my business. So I finished up the dishes and put away the uncut veggies Ryan had left out and I went back into the bedroom to make the bed.
Ryan's housekeeper ran a tight ship. Even with my slightly OCD need for things to be in the right order and clean, I found that after I fixed the things Ryan, Eli, and I had mussed up that morning, there was literally nothing left to do.
