“What’s obvious, David, is that I woke up alone. That I was a one-night stop on your world tour, and the second someone else shows interest, you freak out! Like a toddler who wants his toy back!” I fire back, pushing at his chest even though it does absolutely nothing.
“I didn’t want you to wake up alone?—”
“Well I did! You disappeared, David. No note. No anything. And then you show up kissing me and saying that—that,” I hiss.
“Saying what?” he presses.
“That I’m yours!”
The words echo between us.
Too loud.
Too real.
And for a second—we both feel it.
His hands tighten on my waist.
Not hurting.
But holding.
Anchoring.
Grounding.
“You. Are. Mine. And if you think I’d walk away from you like that, you’re wrong, linda? I left this morning because of legal problems with the track and they needed me here. I wasn’t walking away from you,” he growls, quieter now—but somehow more intense.
“Ha! You already did,” I shoot back.
My voice cracks on the last word.
Damn it.
I hate that. I hate that he can hear it. See it. Feel it.
Something shifts in his expression.
Not softer.
Never soft.
But sharper.
Focused.
“No, Sunshine. Never that. I just had to handle business,” he says. “Didn’t take you with me because I don’t ever want to drag you into this shit.”
“That’s not an excuse. You should’ve woken me,” I snap.
“I know that now,” he mutters. “But if I did, I knew I wouldn’t have been able to leave you there.”
And that—that tiny crack of honesty—that’s what does it.
Because suddenly I don’t know what to think anymore.
Don’t know what’s real.