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“I think you’re attractive,” she concedes. “But . . . you and I can barely get along unless some part of me is touching some part of you. Or if someone’s trying to kill me.”
“We’re getting along right now.”
Her lips purse. Got her with that one.
“You make it sound like this is one-sided. We both know it’s not.”
I shrug. “It’s not. I’m also not holding my dick, hoping you’ll choose me. You want to go with Michael, I won’t stop you.”
Something about my answer doesn’t sit well with her. The amusement in her eyes drifts away and it’s replaced with the same melancholy distrust I saw when I first met her.
Something about it . . . makes me feel like I’ve swallowed battery acid.
“Right,” she says as if she’s trying to solidify it for herself. Abruptly, she stands, taking both our plates over to the sink.
Instinctively, I reach for her because that stupid fucking voice in the back of my head panics at the thought of her leaving.
Jesus Christ. Who knew my life would hinge on a little five-foot, four-inch firecracker?
Certainly not fucking I.
I manage to catch her hand and I can see the way she purses her lips.
“Hannah—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“We have a job to do,” she says quietly, tugging her hand away from me and going to the sink to clean up.
Men like me ruin pretty little girls like you, little doe.
If I had known that night almost three years ago how everything would change, would I have done something differently? Driven right past her before I got too sucked in? Before she became the focal point of my world, even if she isn’t a part of it?
I know the answer. I’m not a fucking idiot. I also know dwelling on the problem at hand won’t change the outcome.
I’ll help her find her sister, make sure she’s safe, and then send her on her way. She can go back to her mother if that’s what she wants and I’ll go back to pretending she’s not mine.
“You’re upset.”
“I’m not,” she grits, though she and I both know that’s a lie. “I don’t fit into your world. You’ve said it a thousand times.”
Yet, I’d burn the fucking world to the ground if it means she’d stay.
And then I shake myself.
It’s better she realizes now that this thing between us is volatile. It’ll only end one of two ways, neither of which ends with me and her riding off into the sunset together.
I want her.
It’s dangerous, but . . . I can’t tell her that.
Hannah places the plates in the dishwasher and dries her hands before turning back to me. Her expression is guarded, closed off and that fucking fake smile I’ve always hated threatens to tug on the corners of her lips.
“I’m going to go get ready for tonight. Thank you for dinner.”
Hannah
“It stinks here.”
Mason cocks a brow at me, but otherwise, doesn’t say anything.
