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“Okay,” I repeated.
I knew this wouldn’t be the last time I had to beg her to trust me.
I knew she was going to backslide.
I knew she was going to fight like the hounds of hell were nipping at her heels to get me to leave her.
It was time to show Nebraska Michaels all that she’d been missing. And if that didn’t work, I’d play dirty. It didn’t matter to me how I won, just that I was going to win by any means necessary.
TWENTY-TWO
“Hey KK, do you have anything on Charlie?” Easton asked as soon as we walked into the conference room.
Between going over my files with Smith and Easton, I’d been thinking a lot, and one of the things I’d given a lot of consideration to was how I could be level-headed, calm, and collected while at work but I couldn’t hold my temper with Easton. That led me into trying to remember if there was anyone else in my life whom I’d lost my temper with. The answer was no. I gave that some thought, too. Unfortunately I’d yet to come up with a reason why it was only Easton who got under my skin.
And right then while I was waiting for my head to explode at his question—the first thing he asked as we walked into the conference room after Smith watched Easton drag me to his office, something I was positive he shared—I gave up trying to figure out the reason and accepted that I had no control over my attitude or mouth when it came to him.
I also found I didn’t have it in me to check that attitude in front of an audience.
“Easton,” I hissed.
His hand pressed against my lower back. Without missing a beat, he gave me a tiny shove forward.
I dug the heels of my Vans into the shiny wood floor and tipped my head up and to the side.
“Seriously?”
Easton’s lips curved up.
“Seriously,” he calmly returned.
“Maybe—”
Easton’s hand shot up, curled around the side of my neck. He lowered his face closer to mine.
“Trust me.”
The knot that had formed in my stomach pulled tighter.
Trust him.
He engaged his thumb. It slid over the underside of my jaw, and his eyes grew intense. There it was, the reason I’d agreed to trust him. It was crazy. It made no sense but there it was, the sincerity, the honesty, the significance of his request was not lost on him. He knew what he was asking. He knew what it would mean for me to trust him—the gravity of it.
Trusting him would make me vulnerable.
Weak.
I was exactly what Easton had accused me of being—terrified. My first instinct was to close down, armor up, and cloak myself in the facade I’d used to keep myself safe.
The Dove.
She didn’t let anyone close. She didn’t have emotions.
The realization struck with such brutal force it was a miracle I kept my feet. With Easton, there was no Dove. There never had been. When he was around I couldn’t find her.
“Baby,” he muttered and gave my neck a squeeze.
“Well, that took less time than I thought.”
