Page 77 of One Step After Another

“I’m safe for you. Whatever kind of safe you need, Penny. Then, and now.”

“I like this. I hate that I like this.”

The words escaped from her in a hiss those clenched, perfect teeth that her pretty lips had parted to show him just how much the truth hurt. Clear tears had tracked lines over her near-translucent skin, finally escaping despite the fight she’d put up to keep them hidden. The wetness stopped at his hands that were still holding tighter to her face than they should. She didn’t shy away, though.

Not from his touch.

Or him.

That static anger snapping between them, and the fact they both gave a shit enough to be standing there doing it at all. And that’s what she meant, he knew. He couldn’t stop himself.

Not from saying what he already did, or even knowing that he’d finally pushed her to the edge, asking next, “You hate that you like me ... or whatever’s this is—this crazy shit. How many people make you this angry? Irrationally so. How many people have touched you because you wanted them to the way I do? That’s what you mean.”

Her next words were not what he expected, ready for more denials or fight. Anything but the truth that kicked him straight in the goddamn heart and explained everything he needed to know in two sentences.

“I can’t afford to let myself wonder what happens when I like this—us,” Penny said, shrugging weakly. “Life taught me not to.”

This wasn’t the kind of thing he could push. There were just parts of Penny’s very psyche that even when she had every ounce of proof that she was fine and okay, her brain and heart didn’t believe it was true. A learned instinct. One she would have to relearn—it was a process. It started with him, though. It began with the people who gave a shit repeating things she already knew just for the sake of saying it until it became the new reality.

The truth.

“I’m safe, Penny.”

Whatever kind of safe she needed—person, place, or otherwise. He would keep saying it until she finally heard it. Even if right now wasn’t the time when she did. It still needed to be said.

“I know,” she whispered.

He was still angry.

Nothing was right. She hadn’t answered anything or cleared up what was happening with her people or otherwise. He didn’t know the plans—if there even were any. There were a million more questions he wanted to ask because he knew eventually, she would break and yet ...

Luca kissed her, instead.

Why?

She looked like she needed it.

God knew so did he.