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“That’s because you were breathing fire like the pocket-sized dragon you are and were about to singe off my eyebrows.”
My belly whooshes at his pet name for me, but I’m determined to hold on to my ire. “Well, get ready to bust out the fire extinguisher then. Because I’m about to singe off more than just eyebrows.” His lips twitch but I keep going, “Because guess what, I’m angry again.”
“I know.” His eyes take my features in. “You’re not very subtle.”
I fist my hands at his casual tone. “I’m angry, Alaric.”
“I noticed.” Then, “Also Janet. And Cynthia. They noticed as well.”
“Are you saying I should be ashamed of it? Of creating a scene.”
“I’m saying that I’m glad I interrupted you before it became the kind of scene that the whole school noticed.”
I fold my arms across my chest then. “I’m not. I’m very upset about that. That I didn’t get to create a scene. Not to mention, I’m extremely upset about the fact that she was here to take you out to lunch.”
“Because you don’t want me to eat lunch.”
“I don’t want you to eat lunch with her,” I snap. “And I don’t want that because she wanted to congratulate you for your grant. Which, I might add, I knew nothing about.”
He watches me for a beat or two. “Next time I get a bunch of money to dig a hole in Italy, you’ll be my first call.” I open my mouth to retort but he keeps going. “Besides, I didn’t tell her. She heard it through the grapevine.”
I shake my head. “Fucking stalker. I bet she’s your stalker. I bet she just lurks around, trying to watch you, gather information about you, trying to be like, ‘Omigod, what’s Alaric up to?’ I bet she has those telescope-like thingies so she can keep an eye on you.”
“No, I don’t think they’re telescope-like…” His chocolate chip eyes glimmer. “Thingies. I think they’re binoculars.”
“You think this is something to laugh about,” I snap, raising my eyebrows. “You’re not gonna laugh about it when one night she jumps out of your closet while you’re sleeping. She’s fucking dangerous.”
“Is she going to be holding a knife too?”
I draw back.
I can’t believe he’s bringing that up. I can’t believe he’s bringing up what I did that night when I snuck into his cottage a few weeks back.
I narrow my eyes at him to show him my displeasure.
His eyes glimmer harder with amusement.
My nostrils flare at that.
His lips pull up on one side.
“How are you not angry about this?” I insist, my chest heaving. “How are you just standing there all cool and calm?”
“Because she’s not worth it,” he says then, his tone grave, any amusement vanishing from his features, his demeanor morphing from casual to serious.
To tight and rigid.
And it causes an ache in my chest. A twist. A pull. A longing to go to him. I make myself stand exactly where I am though. “They hurt you.”
He flinches.
It’s subtle but it’s there and I can’t help but flinch with him.
I can’t help but stare at that bump on his nose.
“I’m fine,” he says, his voice tight.
“They really hurt you, Alaric.”
“And I survived.”
“That’s not enough though.”
He breathes out sharply. “It was a long time ago and I’m handling it.”
“No, you’re not,” I protest and his brows snap together in a frown. “You’re angry. You may not be angry right now. But you are angry in general. You told me that right here in your office, remember? That you’re angry. That you have rage. I haven’t forgotten that. I mean, your punching thing. That’s where it comes from, right? Because you’re angry. Because you have control issues. And it’s understandable, given what happened. But that doesn’t mean that you’re handling things.”
His breaths are sharp now. Much like his features, which seem to be carved in jagged stones.
“Why don’t you let me worry about what I can and can’t handle?” he says, his voice low, his eyes angry.
“I can’t. I’m going to worry about it.”
“It’s not your job to worry about me. It’s actually the other way around.”
“I don’t care. I don’t care if it isn’t my job or if it’s the other way around because I’m your fragile little ward. I’ll still worry.”
He absolutely doesn’t like my insistence. He doesn’t like my stand on this, and I know I said that I’d obey him in everything but I’m not going to do that in this case.
I’m not going to simply let this go.
He has rage. He has anger. He has issues, period. Mo and I, we had a long chat that night and she told me stuff about him and his work. And as I said, I don’t blame him. But that doesn’t mean that he has to live like this. That doesn’t mean that he can’t let the past be in the past and live in the present.
