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Really checked on me.
My hand wraps around the doorknob as another knock comes, sending fiery annoyance through my body. I yank it open, a glare already on my face. It falters when my eyes meet Isaac’s—they’re not black anymore. They’re the usual golden color I love so much.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he murmurs. Tears fill my eyes again, but I blink them away. Instead of moving to the side like he probably wants me to, I stay where I am, not letting him into my room. “Can we talk?”
Folding my arms over my chest, I force my glower to stay in place, not wanting him to see the full effect he has on me. I barely dip my chin in a nod, and stay where I am.
He huffs out a small laugh, dropping his head forward before looking at me through his lashes, a stupidly handsome smile on his face. “Can I come in?” He waves his hand toward me, his fingertips brushing over my shirt.
I jolt back a step and his smile falls, concern filling his face. “You can say what you need to from there.” I use my chin to point at him, and he straightens to his full height, his hands sliding into his pockets.
“I wanted to apologize,” he mutters. “And explain myself.” His eyes search mine, and, for one single, stupid moment, I almost back down. But I don’t. I stand my ground, not budging an inch. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry I was too rough with you last night.”
My throat tightens at the memory of the forced intrusion of his thick fingers, and I shake my head. Not good enough.
“Eve, I mean it. I should’ve…” He lets out a harsh breath, shoving a hand through his dark hair. “I should’ve been gentler with you, and I’m truly sorry, baby.”
Baby. Not sweetheart.
Tears threaten to fall again, and I roughly wipe at my cheek. “You hurt and scared me, Isaac,” I rasp, and he nods, stumbling forward a step.
“I know.” He holds his hands out like he’s pleading with me, looking and sounding pained. “I fucked up. But can you try to understand where I was coming from? I came home to a house full of strangers, and I was so worried something had happened to you. And when I got to you—” He cuts himself off, his face twisting. Not with anger, not like last night, but anguish. “You were stuck in this room with—with him and some girl I didn't know. I didn’t know what they were doing to you. If he was trying to—”
“He wouldn’t do something like that,” I say quietly, wrapping my arms around myself as images of Marcus flit through my mind.
Roman would never touch me like Marcus had.
He saved me then, why didn’t he save me last night?
“And then I smelled the alcohol on your breath, and I wasn’t seeing you anymore. I was seeing Cami, and I couldn’t let you go down the path she had.” He stumbles forward another step, so close I can smell his aftershave. “I was trying to help you, trying to take away the thing that took her from me. You have to understand, Eve, I would never hurt you. I didn’t enjoy what I did, but I didn’t have a choice. I was trying to protect you.”
Cami.
Why hadn’t I thought of her? Of course, Isaac would freak out if he saw me drunk. Mama didn’t drink, but the last woman he loved that did, ended up dying.
And he’s in AA, for Christ’s sake. He runs the damn meetings. I know he’s had some slip ups, but he’s still recovering. He’ll always be recovering. Yet, I let his house, his sacred space, be filled with the one thing that tempts him more than anything. The one thing he hates, the thing that’s taken so much from him.
He was trying to protect me. Even if it hurt me, scared me, I know he was doing what he thought was best. He was trying to do the right thing. Trying to save me.
And that’s more than I can say for Roman.
“I’m sorry, Isaac,” I choke out. His arms open and I launch myself at him, letting his strong embrace anchor me to him, to this moment. “I should have known. I should have thought about Cami, about the drinking.”
I think about all the people there—Clover. I abandoned her on the couch, not thinking twice while I played that stupid game with Roman, seeing who could one-up the other. It was ridiculous. Childish.
“All the people—do you think they drove drunk?” The words fall from my lips before I can stop them. “Oh, God. Isaac—”
“Jesus,” he breathes, his body tensing. I almost slap myself. Why would I say that? Remind him further of Cami and her death? “Anything could’ve happened.”
“I know!” I feel hysterical as I pull away from him. At the last moment, he grasps my face between his warm hands.
“What happened last night wasn’t you,” he says, and I shake my head, agreeing with him. The tears finally start to fall, but I don’t reach up to wipe them away. “You’re not that type of girl, Eve. You’re sweet, and you’d never do anything like that. You were manipulated by—by him.”
“I don’t know,” I cry, shaking my head again, trying to rearrange the jumbled thoughts until they make sense. “I just feel terrible. I should’ve stopped it. I should’ve—”
“Shh,” he breathes, stroking his thumb along my cheek, riding it of tears.
“How do I fix it?” I wipe roughly at my other cheek, my eyes searching his. “I just feel so bad. I—I want to do something to make it better.” I move my hand to the center of my chest and rub the aching guilt there.
