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Pausing for a moment, panting for breath, I take my time to regulate my breathing as I move over to the surveillance cameras, giving them a quick sweep as I down my full bottle of water in one breath.
Everything is clear and calm, exactly how I should want it to be, but my mind wants destruction. I think part of my issue is knowing that Ryan and a team of our top men are searching the property in the Hamptons today, while I remain here, not getting any vengeance for Nate.
As if sensing his name in my mind, I hear the door creak behind me, and I have to take a deep, calming breath before I turn to face him. As soon as my eyes land on him, I can’t mistake the stricken look splayed across his face. Pain, uncertainty, and frustration color his cheeks as he stands before me. With his arms folded over his chest, his lips rub together nervously as he shuffles from foot to foot and I can tell something is on his mind.
I can’t guess how long he’s been building up the courage to walk in here and say whatever it is, but I can tell it’s taking a lot for him to do so. Releasing a heavy sigh, I force my shoulders to relax, grabbing the small towel beside me to swipe the sweat off my face before I move toward him.
“Is everything okay?” I come to a stop a few steps away from him, and he almost startles, his brows knitting together like the question is confusing to him.
“Uh, that’s what I came here to ask,” he mumbles, his nose scrunching like whatever he had built this conversation up to be in his mind is far from how it’s playing out.
That leaves me just as confused as him.
“So who’s going to answer first?” A small smile touches the corner of my mouth as I try to lighten the mood, but the tight one I receive in response tells me that’s easier said than done. Moving an inch closer, I lay the towel over my shoulder, not missing the way Nate’s eyes settle on my abs. “Do you want my honest answer to your question, or a shit cover up?”
I’ve been nothing but raw and honest with him so far, and as much as I put that down to the sleep deprivation, I know it’s him. He’s prying me open whether he realizes it or not.
“The truth. Shit cover ups are wasting both of our time,” he states, finally lifting his eyes to mine, and I smirk, liking his response far too much.
“Then, no, I’m not okay.” My gut clenches as I watch his facial features tighten, his hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously like my response pains him.
“Because of me?” His voice is barely more than a whisper, agony drenching out every word as his eyes fall back to the floor once more.
He said he wanted the truth, so I take another step toward him and speak. “Yes, because of you.”
That doesn’t seem to make him feel any better, his arms banding around his body tightly like he’s trying to protect himself from the world and me all at once. I didn’t mean to cause him distress, and now seeing the pain etched into his eyes, the way they crinkle at the sides, tells me I’m hurting him.
“Can you get yourself reassigned then?” My eyeballs almost fall out of my head at his question, my brain muddled as I grapple with what the fuck is actually going on here.
Cutting the distance between us, I place my finger under his chin, tilting his head back to see his eyes, and it’s then that I see the red marks from crying, the pools of liquid building once more as embarrassment creeps over his face in bright red blotches.
“Why the fuck would I want to get myself reassigned, Nate?” I grunt, not wanting to come across so harshly, but struggling to get hold of my own emotions when I see him in this state.
“Because you’re not okay because of me.” His jaw tightens beneath my hold, his back stiffening as he stands taller, like he’s attempting to put some invisible wall up between us.
I won’t allow it. This man has had the truth spilling from my lips since the moment I met him, destroying my walls without my permission. He doesn’t get to put his own up now. That’s not how this works.
“I think our lack of communication is putting us on complete opposite fucking wavelengths, Nate. Let’s go.” I don’t offer another word as I reach for his hand, his calloused fingers rubbing against mine as I charge for the door, pulling him along behind me.
He doesn’t pull away or demand for me to let go, so I take that as a win as I storm into the kitchen, tossing my towel down on the countertop as I walk by, only stopping when I get to the space next to the fridge. “Sit,” I order, pointing at the white marble top like it’s a seat, but I don’t stand and watch him, waiting for him to follow my command. Instead, I turn for the fridge, grabbing two bottles of water and the Tupperware filled with the remaining cupcakes.
When I turn back to the man currently plaguing my mind, I find he’s taken the spot on the counter like I asked and it immediately sends a thrill of delight down my spine.
Nothing gives me shivers like an order well received and executed.
Fun.
But now isn’t the time for that.
I offer him a bottle of water and he accepts, mumbling his thanks as he keeps his gaze downcast and takes a few sips. I follow suit, needing the extra moment of silence to find the words I need to resolve this fucked up situation.
“Do you want a cupcake before or after we talk?” I ask, ripping the lid off the Tupperware and eyeing all of the cakes with excitement.
“After,” he mumbles, and my stomach pouts in frustration.
“Are you sure? I know the baker, and these are the best fucking cupcakes I’ve ever tasted in my whole entire life,” I state, not making it up one bit, but it gives me the reaction I wanted: the pink creeping up his neck once more. Only this time, it’s with pride and bashfulness, not pain and embarrassment.
“I’ve heard he’s an asshole,” he replies with a smirk, making me grin at his lightheartedness too.
