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“Nothing.”
I don’t truly think he’ll ever hurt me, so I trust this strange man to lead me down a flight of stairs, and for every foot we descend, the temperature drops. Goosebumps mark my skin, but Gunner compensates for the chill and pulls me in closer until we stop at the bottom as blue lights illuminate what may be moving steam.
“A hot tub?” I move out of his hold and walk forward in the shadowed light until I climb three stone steps and stop in front what I would call a pool, but it’s inside and heated. “Please tell me this thing has jets.”
“Geez, now who’s high-maintenance? Little Miss ‘I refuse modern luxuries… but theremustbe jets in the giant tub’.”
“Do you purposely try to annoy me?” I dip one hand into the cool liquid and frown. “It’s cold.”
“Yeah, it’s cold. Because you refused to let someone come here to set up first. The heaters are going now. In an hour or so, it oughta be warm enough for us to spend some time in. Bathing suits are forbidden, but cookies and wine are not.”
“I don’t drink, remember?” I turn away from the tub and try to pass him so I can go back upstairs, but he grabs my arm and pulls me to a stop.
“Why do you frown like that each time you tell me you don’t drink?”
“Frown like what?” I do exactly that. I frown and stumble when my body wants to keep moving forward, but Gunner’s hand wrapped around my forearm stops me. “What? This is my face.”
“No.” He pulls me around until my arms are crushed between our bodies, and looks down at me with those big blue eyes and thick, pouty lips that I’m certain, alleyway dweller or not, the girls would have been panting for when he was a teen.
He was a handsome eleven-year-old, and he’s everything I dreamed he would look like as a man. I mourn the fact I never knew a sixteen-year-old version of Gunner Bishop. He could have been the quarterback, the prom king, the guy the whole school would have been lusting after, and since I claimed him when I was nine, I wouldn’t have been shy about slamming some bitches to the ground in a show of dominance.
“Lib… You do this frown that seems so out of place. It’s so sad, so wrong, and I don’t like it. It happened once, but I let it go since we were just finding our feet. But now it’s happened a second time, so I’m asking, what’s your problem with alcohol?”
“I have no problem with alcohol. That’s the whole point of not drinking, right? Don’t drink; no worries.”
“Okay. So why do you have such a hard stance on the topic? Most adults have an occasional drink. I’m not judging your wishes to refrain, but I’d really love to know what’s going on in your brain when you frown like that.”
“Frown like what?” I try to step back, but stop again under his tight hold. “I’m not frowning like anything.”
“You’re frowningright now. It’s not a regular frown, but the kind that says everything and nothing at the same time. It’s the kind that puts cramps in my gut and a vise around my heart. I’m not here to judge your choices, but we are here to know each other, right?”
“Gunner, no…” I try to pull away.
“Me first? Okay.” He holds on tight and ignores my grunt when I continue to try to pull out of his hold. “I sometimes pick my nose. When the tissue just won’t do the job and a booger refuses to budge, I’ll just shove my finger up there and pick it. I have no shame in my boogie game.”
I frown exactly the way he accuses me of doing. “Ew.”
“Exactly. I told you that secret, and if word got out, the world would collapse. Seriously. Zhang is super pissed at me right now. Spill that secret, and he’ll run with it.” He yanks me in until I crash against his chest. “Now it’s your turn to tell me yours. I doubt it’s gonna be as scary as you think it is. I don’t care about thewhy, Lib. I just wanna know what it is. I wanna know about you. If you’re a recovering alcoholic, then it’s my duty as your man and protector to stop offering the shit up, isn’t it? I would clear out every house I own and never bring the stuff in again. I would do anything to make your hard work a little easier. But if it’s a calorie count thing, then maybe I can help you switch out one cookie for a glass of wine instead.”
“What if I was a recovering alcoholic?” I ask in a quiet voice. “What would that make you think?”
His eyes soften. “I would think you were amazing and strong for kicking the habit. And then I would go upstairs and clear out the liquor cabinets. I would never carelessly offer again. If you’re going to be with me,” he lifts a brow, “which you are, then that means sometimes you’re gonna have to don a pretty dress and attend functions with me. They routinely serve alcohol at these events, so if you told me you had a problem with alcohol, I would make sure I was standing between you and those trays. I would make it as easy as possible to say no. And when I have the power, I would make the event completely alcohol-free.” He folds his back a little and tries to come down to my level. “Babe, I’m asking to be your partner in whatever battle you’re fighting. I’m a good ally to have. I would protect you from whatever you need protecting from. I would die on your hill if it meant you would be okay. But I can’t know who the enemy is if you never tell me.”
“Gunner, it’s not that eas–”
“You just have to say the words, Lib. They’re just words. They can’t hurt you. And I promise, there’s nothing you’ve ever done that would make me think differently of you. We’re all fucked up in some way, right? It was only a week ago that I was seriously considering eliminating my own brothers. I had condemned them because of who their father is. That’s fucked up, no? It’s even more fucked up that, hadyoubeen dirty, I told myself I was gonna take you out, too.”
“Would you have?”
He stops. Swallows. Considers. And then chuckles. “Unlikely. I would have seduced the shit out of you, extracted your secrets, and then I would have tied you to my bed for the rest of your life. You would no longer have access to them, and you’d be my sex slave. Really, it’s the perfect solution.”
“You’re such an asshole.”
He laughs. “You say that a lot. Does it make you feel better when you insult me? Do you think your diversion tactics work?” He shakes his head. “No.” He leans lower, closer, so his hands cup my face and the tip of his nose touches mine. “Tell me your secrets. Tell me why you frown the way you do. That way, I can make it so that you never have to worry about that thing anymore.”
“That’s impossible.”
When he clears his throat with an impatient grunt, I roll my eyes, close them, and then exhale. “What if… What if the alcohol is just a side thing? What would you say if I told you that I treat myself as a former alcoholic, though I’ve consumed maybe three glasses of anything in my life?”
