Page 77 of Ice Queen

That's just who he is, Kait. Protector through and through. Scarlett’s voice follows close behind.

“I’m not a fan of the caveman approach you had to this,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “We could have talked about it, you could have asked me to move my things in here. What if I wanted to go back home, and now I feel like I can’t?”

“I’m so sorry.” He pushes a hand through his hair. “I just… reacted.”

I hold his gaze, steady and unwavering. He shifts on his feet, teeth tugging at his lip ring. “You can tell me no, you can go home right now,” he says, taking a step toward me. “It’s not my decision to make, but I’d love it if you stayed.”

“But you took that decision away from me, whether you meant to or not.” I sigh, wrapping the hem of my shirt around my finger. “I can’t do this again, Markus. I’ve fought too damn hard to get back to me.”

My chest aches as I look up at him. This giant, stubborn, infuriatingly handsome man, who saw me flinch in the presence of his own anger, looks more devastated than I felt.

Regardless of his reasoning, he doesn’t get to blow past all the boundaries I’ve set just to make himself feel better. I take a breath. There are too many thoughts rolling around in my head, and I just need to not be in front of him so I can pull myself together a little bit.

“I need a minute,” I say, hurriedly walking toward the front door, grabbing my keys before heading to my car.

“Kait,” he calls after me, but the front door slams shut, cutting off anything else he has to say.

As soon as my car door closes, my eyes meet his through the open front door. His shoulders are hunched, but he doesn’t make a move. Instead, he gives me one quick nod before slowly disappearing back inside.

Tears sting the backs of my eyes, but they don’t fall as I wait for the panic to come. There should be panic, but there isn’t. Instead, I find myself smiling in the darkness of my car. My chest loosens as I let out a disbelieving laugh. Not because of what just happened, but because I stood up for myself and he respected it. He didn’t challenge me. He didn’t tell me I was overreacting. And he certainly didn’t hit me with the ‘I’m sorry I made you feel that way.’ He gave me the space I needed.

People who love you don’t use fear to manage and manipulate you. Real love frees, while fear polices. I’ve never once felt controlled or like my every move was scrutinized. I feel free to be who I am without worrying if he’s going to come home and be mad that I’m not dressed to the nines. He isn’t going to fall into a state of rage because his kitchen is a mess. He wouldn’t call me lazy if he walked through the door and I was passed out on the couch.

Truth is, had he asked me, I would have said yes. In the few months that I’ve been staying here, his house has felt more like a home than anywhere else I’ve ever lived. And I know it’s because of him. I could say no, just to prove a point, but I don’t want to. I want to be here, with him. I’m choosing to be here with him.

My head falls back against the headrest, my eyes slowly close, and I focus on my breathing. My mind tries to start its “no one’s coming to save you. Save yourself” chant, but even I know that’s no longer true. I know without a doubt that if I needed to be saved, someone would come and save me, and his name is Markus Samuels.

I take one final breath and push the car door open. The walk to the house feels like it’s miles long, and by the time I reach the front door, my insides start to twist. What if I pushed him too far and now he doesn’t want me here? I shake the thought from my head. There’s no room for negative thinking right now. I open the door as quietly as I can, and my heart shatters when my eyes land on his.

His giant body hunched over on the couch, elbows resting on his knees, with his head buried in his hands. It’s clear he didn’t hear me come back inside, nor did he hear the door chime. Something about this man being so torn up over his knee-jerk reaction confirms what I already know. He’s a damn good man, one who deserves the world. His tough exterior may be successful in pushing people away, but getting the privilege to see his softer side is nearly my undoing.

“Markus.”

His head snaps to mine, eyes red-rimmed and heavy. He slowly pushes off the couch, his uncertainty mirrored by the way he hesitates to move. I close the distance, wrapping my arms around his waist. His body goes rigid for a fraction of a second before his arms wrap around my shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Princesa,” he whispers into my hair. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know,” I say, squeezing my arms around him just a bit tighter.

“Look,” I start, not daring to look up at him yet. “I don’t want you making decisions for me, even little ones. I want to be here, with you. But I need you to respect that. I need to know I’m in control of myself and that the decisions I make about my life stay mine.”

He stiffens slightly, but I don’t give him the chance to say anything.

“I’ll stay.” I pause when he pushes away a bit so he can look at me. “On one condition,” I say as I feel my smile grow.

“Name it,” he breathes.

I tilt my head back, resting my chin against his chest. “You have to teach me how to use the fancy coffee maker.”

* Beautiful

* That’s it. What a good girl you are.

* Hi, my petty puppy

* Where’s your dad?

* My God