Oh Jesus.“No one’s here, Trent. Shut up and get out.”
He knows I’m lying. “You should choose better men.”
“Are you kidding me? He’s a frickin’ billionaire. “
“Thesonof a billionaire.”
“Same difference.”
“Bigdifference.” He glowers at the stairs, getting agitated as he appears to waver on something. A grunted curse, and then he’s marching toward the stairs. “I’m gonna knock his fucking lights out for thinking he can come here and—”
“Stop it!” I sprint across the room, jumping in his path with my arms out. “Please get out of my house, you violent lunatic! You can’t just beat up my boyfriend because you don’t like him. Besides, aren’t his uncles and father big clients of Red Cage?”
His glare daggers me hard. “Break up with that drugged-up train wreck, T. If you wanna date a Nelson that badly, date his brother or one of his cousins.” He delivers me a forehead flick, like he always does when he finds me frustrating. “You picked the worst of the lot.”
“Creed isn’t that bad. Honestly. He’s just misunderstood.”
“Don’t care. I don’t want you with a man with issues you have to fix and demons you have to fight before you can get a happily ever after.” He grips my chin. “You should be with someone who’s here to take care ofyou, who keepsyoumentally healthy and strong, who brings youpeace, not chaos. Fall in love with a giver, not a taker. Hear me?”
He gives me another forehead flick then turns and leaves.
A whoosh of breath leaves me when the door closes behind him.
Relief in my lungs, I dart to the front window and peer out between the curtains.
Outside the gate, Mom lifts a large tote bag from her trunk and gives it to Trent. He hugs her and kisses her temple, then closes the trunk and sees her off.
Only when both their vehicles are gone do I inhale a proper breath and head back to the kitchen.
For several minutes, I listen for sounds of life upstairs, wondering if all the noise woke Saint. He’s not a deep sleeper—as far as I know. But he also didn’t seem to sleep at all last night.
Eventually, when I hear nothing, I resume preparing breakfast.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Forgive me.”
Tillie
I’M SETTING UP Atray with the intention of serving Saint breakfast in bed, when the sound of footsteps descending the stairs travels through the open space.
Seconds later, he’s at the foot of the stairs. Complete in his “Guy” ensemble. Perfectly put together, not a hair out of place.
Seems he’s been up for a while.
Paused at the foot of the stairs, he just watches me. Hotly intense as usual. But also unreadable as usual.
No idea where his head’s at right now, and it’s making me nervous. I forgot how much I hated this part. Feeling like I’m always out of breath trying to keep up with him. Vacillating back and forth between feeling at peace with him and feeling anxious that he’ll be gone if I blink too long.
“You turned off my phone?” he asks after an intensely long stretch of silent staring.
Unapologetic, I nod. “You needed the rest. I mean, I know a bunch of people need you, butyouneed you, too. Even camels get dehydrated if they don’t stop and fill up at some point.”
His gaze falls to the ground. And I can’t tell if he’s angry or not. For an entire minute, he just stands there, staring at the hardwood floor. Not a glower but rather pensive. Deliberative. Arms loose at his sides. Not clenching, not twitching. Justthere.
I’m not sure what’s happening, but there’sa lotof energy emanating from him. Slamming into me. Even with the distance between us. It’s…heavy. Forceful. Undeniable.
Hesitant, I ask, “Are...are you upset?”
