I ground my teeth together, probably removing a year’s worth of enamel in the process. My voice came out shaky with anger — and possibly just a bit of anxiety. “You act like I don’t have my reasons for holding you at arm’s length.”
“Name one.”
“Okay, fine. When I first got back to town, if you remember, you didn’t exactly throw out the welcoming committee. I walked into The Witches Brew and heard you talking about me, about my store, about my Aunt Colette. You said you’d ratherstick your dick in a doorwaythan ever get involved with a girl like me!”
The silence was stormy. As was his voice. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No, Graham, I am not fucking kidding you!”
“You’re still holding on to that shit? After everything?”
“Thatshit, as you call it, happens to matter to me. And I don’t hear you apologizing!”
He scoffed. Actually scoffed, like I was being ridiculous. “You don’t want an apology, Gwen.”
“Spoken like a man who refuses to give one!”
“Two years ago, I made one offhand comment — one you were never supposed to hear, one that didn’t even mean anything, seeing as I was standing in a bar shooting the shit with my friends, not giving a sworn statement on my thoughts and feelings in a court of law. You’ve been nursing a grudge ever since.”
My mouth opened to retort, but he kept right on talking.
“You aren’t mad about what I said. You’re using that grudge as an excuse to keep me from getting in there.” His hand came up to press flat against my heart, one finger sliding along the bare skin of my clavicle bone above my tank top. “But, babe… like it or not, I’m getting in there. I can see it happening, bit by bit. And guess what? I fucking like it in there. I like it a lot. So, you’d better get used to it, because I’m not backing off and I’m not running out. You and me, we’re going to ride this wave together and see where it goes.”
Panic was rising inside me, despite my attempts to quash it. I locked my knees to keep from running scared. To cover my blinding terror, I said in an uppity voice, “I suppose I don’t get any say in this.”
“No, you don’t,” Graham agreed instantly. “Not whenyoursay involves you ignoring my existence or running for cover or pretending there’s nothing happening between us, when we both know I could have you flat on your back, screaming my name, begging me to let you come about five seconds after I put my hands on you.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Have I ever told you you’re arrogant?”
“You’ve mentioned it.”
I scowled at him, but it was halfhearted at best. I was too drunk and too tired to execute a glare with any sort of real wrath behind it. And his words, while completely overbearing, were unfortunately also accurate.
“Fight over,” he declared. His green eyes glittered as anger dissolved into something else — something that made my breath halt. “Makeup time.”
Caught up in thoughts of making up with Graham in a variety of creative ways, I swayed a bit on my feet. “Um…”
He scanned me up and down. “You drunk?”
“No,” I lied.
“Yeah, you’re drunk.” He leaned in, so we were only a few inches apart. “Watched Flo stumbled out of here a few minutes ago. Des could barely get her ass in the car, she was weaving so much, belting show tunes at the top of her lungs.”
“You—” I bit my lip. “You watched…?”
“Been parked on the street for the past three hours, Gwen.”
My teeth sank harder into my lip. Suddenly, I found myself on the brink of tears. “Oh.”
He stared at me. He wasn’t touching me, but his eyes were like a physical weight on my skin.
“Why?” I asked, the word cracking in my throat.
“Gwen…” He shook his head, voice softening a shade. “You know why.”
I did know why. He was keeping me safe. Keeping an eye on me, even after the way we’d left things.
You don’t run.