“There it is.” I throw my hands up. “There’s the macho garbage.”
His voice drops dangerously quiet. “This is not garbage.”
“Then explain it.”
“I cannot.”
“Cannot or will not?”
Both.
I see the answer in his face immediately.
My anger shifts shape then, becoming something more wounded than furious. “You trust me enough to sleep in my bed,” I say quietly, “but not enough to tell me why gang members can walk into my bakery and humiliate you without consequences.”
His entire body goes rigid.
“That is unfair.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.” His voice roughens. “You do not understand the danger.”
“Then help me understand!”
“I cannot!”
The shout shocks both of us silent.
Rain rattles faintly against the apartment windows.
Downstairs, muffled voices drift through the floorboards while Darlene and the customers clean the bakery.
Kauss looks away first, breathing hard through his nose. “I am trying to keep this place safe.”
“And I’m trying to understand why the strongest man I’ve ever met just let five pathetic little punks treat him like garbage.”
He flinches.
Tiny movement.
Devastating.
Regret crashes through me instantly. “Kauss…”
“I know how it looked.”
“That’s not what I?—”
“Yes, it is.” His voice stays painfully controlled now. “And you are right. I stood there.”
“Because someone told you to.”
Silence confirms everything.
Cold realization settles into place piece by piece. Lenrog. The meeting. The gang suddenly fearless. Kauss enduring humiliation instead of retaliation.
My stomach twists.
