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“Admit it,” she said, coming to a stop on the other side of the island.
With a shake of his head, he poured a shot worth into the glass and tossed it back. The welcome burn slid down his throat, and he closed his eyes for a second to gather himself. He pointed his glass at her before taking another swig. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think I do. Figuring people out is basically my job.”
“No, you don’t, because you don’t know what I saw. What I know. If you did, you’d never leave your house. You’d be scared, too.”
“So you admit it. You’re scared.”
“Don’t twist my words around.”
“I’m not. I’m using your words.”
“Yeah, against me!” He slammed the glass on the counter, a loud clink echoed around them.
“I’m just trying to understand you.”
“Well, don’t. If I wanted that, I would have seen a shrink.”
He tipped the glass to his mouth, and warm hands rested against his back. He didn’t want to look at her right now. Only this woman could bring him to pure ecstasy one minute and the next make him want to throttle her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, kissing his shoulder blade. “I just hate that all these years, you’ve been out here in this house all alone, just waiting for someone to come in here and kill you.”
“I’m fine.”
Her fingers curled into his side, and she urged him to turn toward her. He sighed, putting his glass on the counter. Her eyes blinked at him, and he wasn’t expecting the empathetic glean. He was ready to fight. He knew how to fight, but this… this he wasn’t any good at.
She cupped his cheek, and he turned his head to kiss her palm. “I’m sorry, too.”
“For what? I was the one who poked after you finally opened up to me.”
“It’s just been so long since I’ve spoken about this with anyone. And yeah, maybe I have been scared all along, but Allison, that fear? It’s nothing compared to the fear of you getting hurt.” A lump lodged in his throat, and he swallowed it. “I took down people who were professional killers and didn’t even blink an eye, but that day at the ice cream shop when you called me… I’ve never known fear like that. That day when I picked up a random piece of paper for you and saw someone had threatened you. I wanted to lock you away and keep you safe. And then that day you called me in a panic about the tongue. I wanted to track down the bastard who did it and kill him, so I never had to see that fear in your eyes again. So, to answer your question. Yes, I’m scared, but I’m not scared of what you think. I’m scared of losing you.” He tucked her hair behind her ear. “I lied. I told you the town kept me here, but the truth is I had planned to leave after five years. I started making plans, thinking it was a good time to switch it up. I hadn’t been found, but the longer I sat, the more likely I would. It was time.”
Her eyes locked with his, and his world stopped just like it did that first day he met her. “Then why didn’t you?”
“Because a bright-eyed reporter showed up to one of my calls, trying her hardest to get a story, and I knew she was going to be trouble, and there was no way I was going to let herself get into trouble without me there to protect her.”
Allison’s lip quirked, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I didn’t take you for a storyteller. But damn, you had me.”
“It is a story. It’s our story. And it’s all true.”
A tear slipped from her lid, and he caught it with his thumb, brushing it away.
“I always thought you hated me.”
“It was a love hate relationship.”
Allison’s eyebrow arched, and her arms wrapped around his neck. “Are you saying you love me?”
He lifted her up, placing her on the counter. Her black hair fell over her shoulders, covering what the shirt didn’t. She was so fucking beautiful.
“My love comes with a burden I could never let you bear.”
She took his face in her hands and wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him close. “I don’t care.”
“I do.”
“Lucky for you, I never listen. Truth is whether you love me or not”—she shrugged—“it won’t change the fact that I love you, and I probably have for a while. I’ve just been too damn stubborn to see it.”
