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Enraged and hurting, my hands went to his shoulders to shove him away, but if anything, he seemed to grow heavier.
“Let me up,” I snapped.
“No,” he argued. “You wanted to know what was going on with me, well, now you know.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You didn’t have to take that job.”
“Didn’t you hear me? They always say it’s the last time, but it never is.”
“What are you talking about? Who the fuck are ‘they?’”
“I’m talking about—” He sighed. “Christ. What does it even fucking matter?”
That was when he flopped back on the sofa, letting me up, and of course, that was when I didn’t want to get up.
With his admission, everything shifted.
I rocked forward, leaning over him as much as he’d done me. Studying the fatigue on his face, a fatigue that had grown worse since our return, I reached up and touched the lines of strain streaking across his forehead.
My anger burned off, the fanned flames dissipating when I caught sight of those pinpricks for pupils, and I muttered, “I’m sorry I freaked out.”
I didn’t think I owed him an apology, but I’d learned that ‘sorry’ got a woman farther than bitter words ever could. Unfair, but that was life.
“You don’t have to be sorry,” he said with a sigh, his chin tipping forward. As our gazes connected, he asked, “Where’s your phone?”
“Huh?”
“Where’s your phone?” he repeated.
“I left it in the gym. Why?”
“Never mind.” Eoghan reached up and slipped a strand of hair behind my ear that had fallen forward and drifted above him. I almost flinched, but I managed to contain it. Just. He saw it, of course. He saw everything, and the regret in his eyes was apology enough. “Are you more pissed that I worked on our honeymoon or that I killed someone?”
My cheeks pinkened, but I admitted, “That you worked.”
His top lip quirked slightly. “You look so innocent. You are so innocent. But the life tainted you before I could protect you from it.”
“Is that a complaint?” My tone was wary.
“No,” he denied. “I’m a lucky bastard.”
“At least you know it,” I said promptly and earned another twitch of his lips.
“I do. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“You did mean to,” I countered. “You only didn't because I know you too well."
“I wanted you to understand,” he rumbled huskily.
“How could I?”
His throat worked. “Every time you leave the house, I think about my enemies, and my family’s enemies, potentially paying someone to do exactly what I do and for you to be at the end of the crosshairs. Do you know what that does to me?”
I frowned. “So thisisto do with me going to college?”
“A little, but I’m not about to stop you from living.” His nostrils flared. “There’s no life to be had when you’re trapped in a gilded cage.”
“I have guards,” I offered, well aware that if he were my father, gilded cage or not, I’d be locked up faster than I could say, ‘No.’
