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“Or what?”
“Stop playing fucking games, Cecelia.”
“You’re the one acting like a child. I came here to have a few drinks.”
“What do you want?”
“The truth! I want the truth! I want to know what happened!”
His jaw ticks as his acidic glare cleaves me to pieces.
I lift the bottle in offering. “Sure you don’t want a drink?”
He slaps if from my hand, and it joins the pile of rubble on the floor.
“I mean, I know you’re more of a gin man, but that was uncalled for.” His face remains granite. “Jesus, Tobias. I just want to talk.”
Murderous eyes roam over me, and my body responds to every inch his gaze sears over. He’s so fucking beautiful, and his anger brings me back to the long nights we spent exorcising our hate for the other in much better ways. He’s aged incredibly, and I find myself aching to pull him closer, even in his furious state.
I lift my palms to his heaving chest and leave them there. His nostrils flare, but he allows it. “Do you ever think of me?”
“No.”
“Liar,” I drawl, with a watery smile. He grips one of my hands painfully and steps away from my touch.
“This is not a game.”
“I know,” I say softly. “There’s a death toll. What’s it up to now? Did you include me? Did you add us both in?”
My words seem to strike him where intended, and he darts his eyes away.
“Because I’ve been slowly dying every day since I left.”
His jaw flares, and my fingers itch to touch it, to soothe his anger. He reads my thoughts, sneering down at me.
“You’re drunk.”
“I just want to talk. Please, please, talk to me.”
He grabs my purse from the table and finds my keys before taking me by the arm like a child and making his way toward the back exit.
“Wait, please, Tobias, hold on.” I grab my purse from him and gather the envelope of cash I withdrew this morning and set it on the table before addressing Eddie who’s gazing around the bar with a helpless expression. “Sorry, Eddie. This should cover it.” The look in Eddie’s eyes tells me I won’t be welcome back.
Tobias doesn’t waste a second, dragging me past the bathroom before we burst through the back door. He unhands me as I stumble in my heels. The minute the night air hits me, I turn back toward the building and vomit.
“Putain.” Fuck. Tobias pulls my purse out of the line of fire and steps forward, gripping my hair.
“It’s just nerves,” I say through a dry heave.
Another curse as I wretch again, and he unhands me, disappearing behind the door before it slams next to me. Completely empty, I pant, disgusted with myself that I can’t keep it together. Being here, seeing him, his reaction to me, the emotions it’s stirring is too much. It’s like constantly being struck with a wrecking ball.
Tobias comes back a minute later with some bottled water, unscrewing the cap before he thrusts it toward me.
Humanity.
He’s still in there. Somewhere.
I take the water and sip, looking up at him.
