Yep, he was going to force his way through.
“Let me go!” I protested, pressing hard against his chest.
“Can’t,” he replied simply, his chin resting on the crown of my head. We’d always fit so well together, like two puzzle pieces. My face snuggled perfectly into his neck when he held me like this. But I wasn’t in a snuggling type of mood.
“You did it fine before,” I snapped, outright shoving now, my anger palpable.
“Trust me, I was far from fine,” he assured me.
My body stilled. He’d been upset, too? Then why hadn’t he checked in once in six months? Now he had the audacity to come plundering back into my life as though he had every right to take over again? Nuh uh, no way.
I made a strangled sound of frustration and continued to try to shove at him. He held me tighter, and I started to punch his chest; my anger and grief pouring out in a way I could barely control. He took what I gave him, barely grunting at my ministrations, letting me work it out. Finally, I exhausted myself and sagged against him in defeat. And to my severe horror, I started to sob against his chest.
He held me, patiently stroking my hair.
Finally, I pulled it together and pushed away from him. “This is my strategy to convince you that you don’t want to have anything to do with me,” I quipped, wiping my eyes.
He gave me a sad looking smile but didn’t reply. Sal had never been much of a talker. After another minute of silence, he reached out to stroke my hair back from my face. “There are so many things I want to say to you, but I don’t feel like you’re in the state of mind to hear them or to believe them,” he explained quietly. “But you’re my woman, have been since the moment I laid eyes on you. And I’m never leavin’ you again.” He shook his head.
I sucked in a breath at those words. He’d never made any sort of grand statements like that when we’d been together before.
“I know you’re angry and hurt and I fucked things up, but I’m gonna fight my way back in there,” he murmured, his palm splaying briefly on my chest. “It kills me that this happened to you because of your relationship with me,” he said hoarsely, tracing the bruise on my neck with the utmost tenderness. “It kills me that I was a few blocks away when it started,” he rasped. His eyes were so pained that I nearly reached out to console him, but I found my resolve and restrained myself.
“Is that why you’re doing this? Making me stay with you? Because you feel guilty?” I asked quietly, searching his expression. I had to know. I couldn’t worry about being an obligation to him. Not this time.
He shut his eyes and shook his head, a frustrated laugh escaping. “If that were true, then why have I been chasing after you since I got back?” he demanded lightly.
Hmm, I suppose he had a point.
He sighed, “listen, I know we have a lot to work out, but this is bigger than you and me right now. We need to get you secure, and I need to connect with the guys to see what the fuck is going on,” he growled. “So, can you please pack up your shit and let me take care of this?”
I did sort of love when he got bossy, which was a lot. What was wrong with me?
“Okay,” I agreed. The man had a point. Whatever drama we had with our relationship paled in comparison to our lives being threatened. I’d deal with the prospect of staying with Sal and what the hell was going on with us later, much later.
I showered and dressed, fitting a lightweight scarf around my neck. I put some makeup on my eye, but there wasn’t much that could be done to cover it. It was pretty nasty looking. I started to pack, bringing out clothes from my closet to the bed.
“You’re gonna need a bigger bag,” he assessed from his spot at the kitchen bar.
“What?” I asked, eyeing the fairly large duffel I’d selected.
“Baby, I know you. You need at least two outfit choices for every day. You might be staying for a while. Pick a bigger bag,” he replied.
“Fine,” I grumbled. “Does this bag meet your requirements, Mr. Armstrong?” I asked cheekily, gesturing to the larger bag I’d grabbed from the closet.
“Better,” he nodded, ignoring my sarcasm.
Thirty minutes later, we were locking up, my huge duffel hefted over Sal’s shoulder. When we walked out to the front of my building, I was shocked to see Gavin there leaning against his BMW. His eyes immediately narrowed when he took in my eye, and he abruptly stalked toward us.
“What happened?” he demanded.
Oh, shit.
“What are you doing here, Gavin?” I asked calmly.
“Scarlet said something had happened to you. She was vague, but I was worried. Did he do this to you?” he demanded, pointing with a glare at Sal.
I saw Sal stiffen out the corner of my eye and, no doubt, his face was a mask of rage at the assumption.