“Yeah.” He sighed through his nose. “I’m not good with them.”
She jerked her chin toward the stairs. “Go talk to her.” Turning on a heel, she drifted toward the shooting range. “And for the love of the Star, call that damn Viper and tell her you’re not available anymore—ever. You can thank me later.”
—
Loren was hurling her things into her suitcase when a knock came at her door.
She wasn’t sure what she was doing, but she didn’t want to stay here, at least not tonight. A little voice in her head told her she was being ridiculous. Childish, even. What Darien did in his spare time, and who he did it with, wasn’t any of her business. But her heart was telling her to run, and it had no interest in behaving rationally. When she’d come to Hell’s Gate that very first time, she’d only hoped to get Sabrine back. She hadn’t planned for…well,this.
Falling for Darien had never been part of the plan.
“It’s open,” she mumbled.
The handle turned, and Darien stepped in. He looked her over before his gaze found the half-packed suitcase on her bed. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she swore his features fell at the sight of the near-empty drawers. In the weeks that’d passed, she hadn’t realized how many of her belongings had wound up here.
“What’s going on, Lola?” Although he tried to make the question sound casual, his voice was low and gruff with emotions she couldn’t nail down.
“Nothing.” She grabbed another shirt from the drawer and refolded it. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
Silence. And then, “I cancelled.”
She grabbed another shirt and stuffed it into the suitcase. “That didn’t seem like what you wanted a few minutes ago.”
“I never wanted—,” he broke off. She peeked at him to see that he was glaring at the oil painting on the wall. “I don’t want Jessa.”
Loren had nothing to say to that. Embarrassment had closed her vision in, making her feel like she should only look at the floor, at anything but Darien. Her face had flooded with heat, and her throat felt like a hand was squeezing it shut.
Heavy boots pounded on the floorboards as Darien strode over and took a seat at the foot of her bed, the wrought-iron creaking under his weight. She could feel him watching her for a time before he whispered, “I don’t want you to leave, Loren.”
Her eyes burned, but she forced back the tears. “I don’t want to leave either.”
He rubbed at the back of his neck. Another of her shirts hung limp in her hands, but she didn’t fold it, nor did she stuff it into the suitcase. With every second that dragged by, she began to feel more ashamed by her own behaviour.
When Darien lifted his head, his eyes were more conflicted than she’d ever seen them as he scanned every part of her face. She didn’t let herself imagine that he was looking the longest at her mouth again; she didn’t need any more hurt. “What’re we doing, Lola?”
She tried to swallow, but her heart was choking her. “I could ask you the same thing.”
He simply shook his head, looking like he had about as much of an idea as she did. Neither of them had planned for this.
Loren glared at the zipper on her suitcase, hoping like hell that the tears burning at the backs of her eyes wouldn’t betray her. With a sigh, she tossed the shirt she was still holding aside and scrubbed her hands over her face.
“Do you believe a person can change?” Darien said into the quiet room. “If they really want to?”
The breath Loren drew trembled. She wasn’t sure where this question of his was coming from, but it sounded like her answer really meant something to him. “I believe if a person has gotten so far as to ask that question, then they stand a fighting chance.”
He nodded subtly, and this time it was Darien who seemed to have trouble looking at her. “Despite what you said about me earlier, I’m not a good person, Loren,” Darien whispered, the words barely audible. “I kill, I lie, I…”
Loren forced herself to keep breathing. “But do you lie to me?”
His features softened. “No. Of course not. But that doesn’t make who I am any better, Loren.” He inhaled through his nose, chest rising with the movement, and then he blew the breath out in a sigh as he admitted, “I might’ve said all that stuff down there to see how you’d react.”
Loren blinked. “You were trying to make me jealous?”
“Something like that,” he mumbled. The look on his face suggested there was more to this story—a part he wasn’t willing to explain to her.
Her mouth became a thin line. “That’s an asshole move, you know.”
Darien still wouldn’t look at her. “I’m sorry.”
