His hand falls away, but his eyes assault me.
“I used to resent you for making me do all those things at gunpoint,” I say. “But now I realize that’s how the game is played when you know someone doesn’t love you, and you always knew that, didn’t you, Caleb? You knew I didn’t love you before I knew it myself. That’s why you held on so tight.”
“One of these days, Iris . . .” His smile is possessed, mad, and it makes me shiver.
I put more distance between us and discreetly slip the knife back into my purse.
“It better be soon because, according to Lo,” I say, blowing over my palm the way she did that day, “your days are numbered.”
The closest thing I’ve ever seen to fear enters his eyes. If I didn’t know before, I know now. Lo is definitely more badass than I am. I hold a knife to Caleb’s dick and he barely looks nervous. I remind him of Lotus’s words, and he’s scared.
“Iris, you ready?”
It comes from behind us. August walks up, dressed similarly to Caleb in a dark sweater and slacks. That’s where the similarities end. Caleb is bright as eighteen-carat gold, but tarnished and counterfeit. August is dark, towering over me like a wall providing shelter. He steps into the spot beside me and takes my hand. With his eyes never leaving Caleb’s face, he leans down to drop a kiss in my hair.
“You need something, Caleb?” he asks tonelessly.
“You have no idea,” Caleb replies, his eyes cold and glinting, focused on me.
“I’m going to say this once.” August doesn’t release my hand, but steps into Caleb’s space until their shoes practically touch. “Iris and Sarai are under my protection, and if you bother them, you’re bothering me.”
The words settle among the three of us.
“And I’ll do more than just break your leg, Caleb,” he says softly. “You don’t get to see them unless Iris says so.”
“You’re so wrapped around her little finger.” Caleb laughs cruelly. “She has you pussy whipped.”
“She does,” August replies pleasantly, allowing a smile. “Jealous?”
Caleb’s smile drops. “Just remember I had that pussy first.”
“Then you know what a lucky man I am to have Iris for the rest of my life.” August laughs. “This is one instance where I’d rather be last than first. You had your shot. You screwed it up. I’m what they call in basketball . . . a closer. A finisher.”
The faux ease evaporates, and August’s face freezes over. “This is the only warning you get, Caleb. The next time I find you trying to intimidate my girl, you won’t be playing ball for a long time.” He tilts his head, his narrowed eyes cutting through the tension-thickened air. “And I won’t bother disguising it as a dirty play.”
They stare at one another for long seconds stretched and thinned by their mutual malice. I know how clever and insidious Caleb is. Even seeing August close to him for a few minutes makes me nervous. Caleb carries a miasma of evil, and I’m choking on it. I want everyone I care about as far away from him as quickly as possible.
“August.” I tug on his hand. “Baby, let’s go.”
Caleb’s eyes flash to me. I didn’t mean to provoke him by using the endearment, but I don’t care if he knows that what I withheld from him, I give freely to August. He finally slides his hands into his pockets and walks away, whistling.
I expel a breath held so long I’m dizzy. While facing Caleb, my bravado was high and my knife was drawn, but with him gone, my knees shake and I lean limply into August. He rubs my arms, linking our fingers with one hand and cupping my face with the other.
“What was that?” he asks, a frown creasing his brow. “You’re trembling. Iris, what the hell is going on?”
One day I’ll have to tell him. I’d hoped I would never have to and that I could use the NDA as my excuse. It’s really the shame, the embarrassment, and the horror that I don’t want to share with him. I don’t want him to know that those things happened to me and that the woman he loves is such damaged goods. I’ll have to swear him to secrecy, and he’ll have to promise not to go after Caleb, which I don’t know if he’ll be able to do. My thoughts swirl and tangle.
“I’ll tell you everything soon, okay?” I rest my forehead against his chest. “Just not today. Can we just go to your mom’s and enjoy Thanksgiving dinner?” I lift my head and piece together a grin. “And celebrate your win? Can we do that?”
His expression doesn’t change or soften when I tease him, but he finally blows out a tired breath, running his hands through his hair. “You will tell me everything soon?” he asks. “Because I’m gonna lose my shit if I walk up on him like that with you again. What the fuck? He’s creeping hard, and—”
“Yes. I’ll tell you soon, but not yet.” I close my eyes and press my lips tight against the tears, the emotion that if I uncork, I won’t be able to stop. “Promise.”
He bends until our lips are level and takes mine between his, and the day, the scrutiny, the fear, the anxiety—it’s all eclipsed by this. By his lips, sweet and urgent and hungry over mine. By his devotion.
“I just need . . .” I let the words rest on his lips.Time? Space? Grace? Understanding? Patience?“You,” I breathe into our kiss, angling my mouth to take more of him, to take as much of him as my lips can hold. “I just need you.”
“You have me.” He straightens and looks over to the car where his mother watches us through the window. “Wow. My mom is watching us make out.”
