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That’s not the right thing to do, either.
Rory
WHERE IS GREGORY VALLEJO WHEN YOU NEED HIM?
Minutes feel like hours, and hours drag on into eternity.
We were awake and moving around the city before the sun had even come up, and now we’re back at the Malone compound, but I don’t leave my room for as long as the sun shines.
Sure, I’m pouting.
Yep, I’m mortified.
Absolutely, I got swept away in what I thought was romance and tried to kiss a man I had no business kissing.
Will I stay in my room until I die?
If I’m lucky.
But you know what? Maybe I’m the stupid one, and maybe my lack of experience in the big, bad world set me up to think something was happening when it really wasn’t. But I swear he looked at me like there was more. He said things, and he meant others, and they were for me to read between the lines. I might be gaslighting myself, and shit, I’m so good at that anyway. It’s a byproduct of my daddy issues, no doubt. But fuck that asshole, because I’m not so stupid as to make up an entirethingin my mind if there weren’t seeds planted first.
Angry, I shove up on my bed and ignore the stabbing pain pulsing down through my part-steel leg. Setting my feet on the floor and coming up to stand, I fix my jeans so they sit on my hips without twisting, and tug my fresh, new hoodie down to make sure I’m covered properly. Then I turn with the intention to storm through this house with the rage of a spited twenty-one-year-old. But the fact I have to limp-hobble means my storm is more of a gentle breeze.
Whatever gets my point across.
“Drake Banks!” I shout loud enough that even if he’s in the backyard, he’ll hear me. But when I stomp-shuffle my way to the door and into the hall, I come to a screeching stop and find the man sitting on the cold, hard tile. His ass, likely numb from the unforgiving floor. His knees up, and his elbows perched on top. He drops his head back lazily and looks up at me through infuriatingly pretty eyes.
He swallows in the newfound silence, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, visible to me. But his eyes slide from the top of my unbrushed hair, down to the bottoms of socked feet. When I guess he’s decided I’m safe and in one piece, he brings his gaze back up and locks on to my eyes. “Yeah?”
“You’re an asshole.”Great comeback, Gentle Breeze. You got this.
Charging away to the sound of him scrambling to his feet, I continue along the hall in search of food and water. I’ve hidden long enough, and I’m done feeling like a fool. “You turned from me, Drake, and you did that so you could stand atop your pedestal and act like some kind of fucking martyr.” I press my hands to the walls to help carry my weight, then to the staircase banister as I start down. “You did that so you could feel good about yourself.”
He follows just two-feet behind me. “Trust me, I don’t feel good at all.”
“I’m not an idiot.” I stop and twist my neck to find him close enough that his breath touches my lips. His nose, almost touching mine. “I’m not that stupid, Drake. And I’m definitely not desperate for a man’s attention.”
He slides his tongue out and wets his bottom lip.Damn me for following the movement with my eyes. “I never said you were.”
“No, but your actions imply it.” I turn again and continue down. “You say all that shit about beautiful eyes. And how smart I am. How brave. How utterly boring I am.” Shaking my head, I stomp down one stair at a time and use the pain in my movements to power my rage. “You said things about me, Drake Banks. And you stare a lot. And you step in front of bullets for me. And you promised my mom you’d protect me forever. And I swear,” I twirl at the bottom step, keeping hold of the banister or risking my ass slamming to the floor. “I know it’s your job. I know you’re paid to do this. But don’t you dare look into my eyes and tell me you act like this with every person you’ve been assigned.”
“No,” he rasps, still on the last step and towering over me. “I wasn’t assigned to you. My captain doesn’t even know where I am.”
“Exactly! This!” I snap. “The ‘hey there, Little Bird,’ and the ‘I’m here for you’ and ‘I didn’t like being in the DEA because I never get to clock out, but here I am, sleeping in a house with you and not clocking out either.’” I spin on my heels and move toward the kitchen. “I’m not some vapid idiot, Drake. I’m not clueless to the world. And I’m notlookingfor a man to pay attention to me. But I’ll be damned if I let you skate by and pretend this isjustwork.”
“What do you want from me, Aurora?” He stomps in my wake and follows me into the kitchen. “What?”
“I want you to admit whatever the hell is going on inside your head! It doesn’t mean I’ll jump your damn bones.” I grab a box of cereal from the pantry, then a carton of milk from the fridge, slamming them both down on the countertop. “I want you to be straight with me. Because you promised that, too. You’ll gleefully tell me when a man is coming to kill me, and you’ll call out Detective Malone for skirting the truth about things. But this one thing, where you get to play both sides of the line but pull back like that makes you a hero, is you not being straight with me.” I press my hands to the counter and glare into his eyes. “I am not a stupid little girl. And I am not a brainless twat who can’t read cues. You look at me like you want me, but when I call you out on it, you act like I’m crazy.”
“You want me to be straight with you?” His tone is glacial and cutting. Mean, and just dark enough to make me wonder if I’ve made a grave mistake. “You want me to remind you that I’m thirty-seven-years-old, and you’re twenty-one? That’ssixteen years, Aurora. Sixteen! You want me to remind you that you’re vulnerable right now? Being chased by killers, and holding your mom’s hand while she withers away. And I’m the cop keeping you safe. That’s not just an imbalance of power. That’s two!”
“I am not a child!” I tear the box of Cheerios open and pour them into my bowl until it overflows. “You are not a fifty-year-old creep grooming a little girl.”
“I’m old enough to date your mother!”
“So do it.” I pour milk until it sloshes over the side of the bowl and toss a spoon in as well, making more of a mess. “You think she’s beautiful. Do it.”
“I thinkyouare beautiful,” he growls, stalking forward and placing his hands on the counter opposite where I stand. “I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. I think you’re smart. And silly. And resilient. I think your red flag isn’t that you have no one, Aurora. But the fact you can laugh with a fire crew saving you, while your fucking femur is stabbed through your leg.”
