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He turned and carried the platter to the kitchen and placed it on the counter. Every muscle in his back and shoulders seemed at breaking point. For a heartbeat he didn’t move, his head hung, his hands planted on the counter beside what was meant to be their breakfast.
The prickling tension making its way over her skin slithered up over her scalp. She stared at his back. “Please explain what’s going on?”
“I can’t do this to you, Lis,” he muttered, head still low. “I won’t.”
“Do what?”
He turned, and she stepped back, the tortured pain in his face stealing her breath.
“I saw you flinch. When I lost my temper with Nora. I heard you squeal.”
“Yes. But it wasn’t—”
“I’m a control freak with a temper, Elisa. I don’t do relationships. It’s better that way. I let myself think I could with you, but…” Eyes haunted, he swiped his hand over his face.
“Better for who, Angus?” she whispered.
His jaw knotted. “Better for you.”
She shook her head. No. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t. “Don’t,” she objected.
“I saw you flinch,” he said. “Saw your fear. I heard it. You were scared because of me, because of my temper. I can’t do that to you again.” He scrubbed at his mouth with his hand, as if he hated it.
God, he didn’t just look broken; he looked destroyed.
“It’s not like that, Angus,” she said, taking a step toward him. “I was startled and—”
“I’ll take you back to the hotel.” He turned back to the counter, not looking at her. “I’m sorry. This isn’t what I wanted, but…I can’t…I won’t…”
She stared at his back. Her heart pounded in her chest like a trapped bull.
Bria had told her last night—well, at one a.m. this morning while she’d been giving Elisa advice about love-at-first sight—that Angus apparently had some baggage.
Elisa had dismissed it. Everyone had baggage. Dio, hers was so freaking heavy she could barely breathe carrying it around. But watching the man she’d spent the last twenty-four hours with, the amazing, funny, confident, relaxed, warm, calm, sexy, self-effacing man she’d fallen in love with, being torn apart from the inside… God, what had his father done to him?
She pulled a slow breath, forcing her heart to slow. Forcing the prickling heat crawling over her to the back of her mind. Now was not the time to let anxiety gnaw at her.
I can hear the seagulls. I can feel the summer warmth. I can smell the bacon. I can see…
“Angus,” she said, taking another step toward him. “I’m not going anywhere.”
His shoulders bunched. His fingers on the counter curled. A little. “It’s for the better, Elisa.” Her throat thickened at the raw grief in his voice. “I swore my whole life I wasn’t going to be my father. I swore I wasn’t going to do to anyone what my father did to me. To…”
The hoarse words faded, and his head dropped again.
Biting her lip, she studied his back. How much had his father hurt him? Or maybe itwasn’tjust Angus his father had hurt?
“You’re scared you’ll hit me one day,” she said softly. “Like your dad hit your mom?”
His fingers curled fully into fists on the counter. And then uncurled, splaying flat on the granite. An almost imperceptible shudder rocked through him. “Yes.”
Her heart tore at the wretched emptiness in the word. “You won’t.”
“You flinched. When I lost my temper with Nora. You stepped backward, away from me. And the second that happened… It broke me.” He turned, his eyes red. “You are the most amazing, incredible, amazing person I’ve ever met, with the most gentle soul, and the thought of scaring you, of hurting you… I can’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen. Not to you. I love you too much.”
The softest of smile pulled at her lips. “You said amazing twice.”
He frowned.
