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And I saw Corbin.
I saw the way he looked at me.
I saw the way he found something in me like I found in him.
The only difference was that I wanted to run after it while he wanted to run away.
And I had no clue what to do with that. If there was anything to do.
It was one more thing in life that balanced on a knife’s edge, teetering toward everything and nothing.
Just like The Berkshire.
I hounded Phillip to meet with me, trying to keep my cards close to my chest as to not tip him off, but he fielded every request. Plans for the future of the club started tomorrow with a meeting with the team, and I’d just got another fucking rejection.
Sorry. I can’t. I have a lunch date. Don’t worry your pretty little head. We’ll figure it all out.
My pretty little head.
It was like he gave up on even bothering to try and sound professional.
That condescending, bitch-ass, cheap piece of mother fucking shit.
“Pretty little fucking head,” I growled under my breath. The words escaped like steam from a pot about to boil over.
And that was when Corbin walked into the kitchen, meeting my eyes for the first time since he fucked me. Literally and figuratively.
His brilliant blue eyes blazed while his body froze, like maybe if he didn’t move, I wouldn’t be able to see him. I almost laughed.
He stood there, the opposite of invisible. No, he looked like the perfect target.
“Well, well, well. Look who decided to show up. What? No meeting at five-o-clock in the fucking morning? No phone calls to keep you at the office until midnight?”
“Rose…” His sigh—as if preparing to do battle with an errant child—only served to add fuel to the fire.
“Don’t Rose me. I’ve had my fill of bullshit this week. Phillip is already taking up the space of asshole of the week, being an evasive dick, holding up my plans, and treating me like some dumb bimbo. I don’t need you being another asshole and treating me like I don’t exist.”
“I’m not treating you like you don’t exist.” He at least had the decency to sound unconvinced of his own words.
“Really?” I sneered. “Then where the hell have you been?”
The muscle along his jaw ticked, my doubt hitting its mark. Good. I’d rather have some passion, even anger, than this complete dismissal. “Work has been hectic. I know you don’t understand because you’ve only just graduated, but you’ll—”
“Don’t,” I barked, my tone brokering no argument. I didn’t need another man telling me I didn’t know any better.
“Don’t what? You asked for an explanation. I’m giving it.”
“It’s an excuse.”
“An excuse for what, Rose? Since you know so much, what is it an excuse for?”
“It’s an excuse for running from me like a scared chicken-shit.”
His head dropped back, and a single laugh broke free before leveling an angry look my way. No, not angry—guarded.
“I’m not scared of some little girl.”
“No, you’re scared of a woman because you found something in me, and the last thing you see me as is a little girl.”
His eyes flared. There. That was the same look from our night, the one that said I wasn’t imagining whatever had been building under the surface. The one that said he saw me as much as I saw him. The one that said he wanted more.
Hope flared with it in my chest, and I waited for him to admit how right I was and come to me.
Unfortunately, he took a step back, the look vanishing as soon as it came. “That’s exactly what I see. I see a girl half my age. I see a girl I am in charge of caring for. I see a girl who has a whole life ahead of her.”
The hope died, taking the anger that flashed in an instant with it, leaving me bereft and tired. So, fucking tired. In the scheme of things, I didn’t know Corbin that well, but in the time we’d spent together, I knew him enough. I knew he wanted a family. I knew he wanted more from life than what he had.
I could see he didn’t know how to get it, that maybe he didn’t deserve it. And if he didn’t deserve it, then being with me would keep me from deserving it, too.
I could also see the stubborn set of his jaw—his pride. His fear.
It reminded me of my father.
“Make up for size with strength,” Dad said.
“What about you? You’re already so big.”
“Not always,” he laughed, turning his office chair away from the desk, making room to pull me onto his lap.
“You can change size?” I asked with wide eyes.
He laughed again. “No. But that would be fun, huh?”
“Maybe. But I don’t know what you mean.”
“Sometimes, when you’re scared or nervous, you can feel small. You have to be strong then too. Even stronger so you can push your way out of the corner you may be in.”
