Page 60 of No Control
“Is this about earlier?”
She glances over at me and goes to the fridge, placing the meal back on the shelf. “No, it’s not about earlier.”
“So, what’s it about then?”
“I think I’m gonna go to bed.” She passes by me, but I grab her arm.
“You’re not leaving this room without telling me what the hell is going on in that beautiful head of yours.”
She rolls her eyes. “Stop it.”
Irritation burns in my chest. “Stop what? Caring about you? Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, Lydia.”
Her shoulders slump. “You don’t even know me.”
“I do know you.”
“No, you know the books I’ve written. That’s not me.”
“It’s a window to you.” And I've peered through all of yours.
“It’s not!” She throws her hands up, her bare stomach exposed momentarily. I have to force my eyes upward to keep my thoughts in line. “I’m a storyteller—and not even a great one at that. It’s all fiction. My life is a mess right now.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” I tug her into me. “Keep going, baby.”
Her jaw drops. “Did you—why did you just call me baby?”
“I’m sorry, would you prefer something else? Maybe stubborn-ass beautiful? Thick-skulled precious?”
She almost cracks a smile at me. “No.”
“So tell me, darling, what is on your mind?” I brush my nose against hers, and she lets out a sigh, her eyes closing and body relaxing.
But then those jade eyes flutter open. “My ex-fiancé is 'missing.”
Rage. I feel rage.
“I see” is all I can mutter. And it’s emotionless. Why does she care? He was going to hurt her. He was berating her. He was a worthless, piece of shit human being.
“It’s just shocking,” she continues, her expression finally breaking to show the grief…and fear. “I hope he turns up and nothing bad has happened to him.”
Well, that’s not gonna happen.
“I think he was super messed up over us splitting up—and he lost it on me—but I wouldn’t wish harm on anyone. Maybe prison,” she laughs dryly. “But not death. I don’t wish for anyone to die.”
“No one?”
She studies my face. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe some people deserve it.”
I nod. I don’t know what else to do. I can’t offer an apology I don’t mean. I’m not sorry Mason is gone. I’ve killed more people than there are days in a calendar year on top of that. It’s what made me a man—a fucked up one, nonetheless.
“Are you busy tonight?” Her question draws me out of the bleak thought and back to the freckles splashed over the bridge of her nose.
“No, I don’t think so.”
She turns her wrist in my grip, her fingers lacing around my skin and gripping me back. “Come with me.”
I let her lead. My eyes spot Duke curled up on the couch, and he watches us as we head down the hallway. She turns the doorknob of her room, but I stop her.
