Page 95 of Last Man Standing

He scoffs. “I would hope not. That’s your business, Princess. My business. Not his.”

“I didn’t tell him because somewhere deep in my consciousness, I knew it was wrong. The same way I knew begging Roy for scraps was wrong. Like I knew not speaking up was wrong. I’m isolated, and I allowed it. I spend all my time in this bedroom I’m too afraid to leave.”

“I said to leave!” he barks out ferociously. “Fuck, Scarlett. How many times do I have to give you a tour and tell you to explore?”

“As many times as it takes for me to feel comfortable doing it! Which I don’t. I don’t feel comfortable, Sebastion. Which means I don’t feel safe. When I don’t feel safe, I’m in a coercive relationship. You did this,” I repeat his silencing action with a finger in front of my lips, “So I lied to my brother, when I should have told him you were right there in front of me.”

“I did that for you!” he booms. “I thought you would be more comfortable keeping that information to yourself. But if you wanna tell him, go for it! In fact—” He casts scrutinizing eyes around the room. “Where’s my phone? I’ll fuckin’ tell him.” He spots the device on his bedside table, then he’s moving, faster than I can dive for the bed and beat him to it. “I’ll call and tell him now. I’ll tell him where we are, too.”

Stunned, my breath catches painfully in my throat.

“I’ll send him the GPS coordinates and handle my mother’s freak out.”

“This is… No. Stop!” I sprint around the bed and wrap my hand around his to stop him from dialing. “This is bigger than that, Sebastion! This is about me. Because I’m still the same spineless idiot I’ve always been. Even if you’re not Roy, even if you don’t exploit my vulnerabilities, it doesn’t change the fact that you could. You could abuse me. You could hurt me. You could destroy me. And I’m in this position again because of me. Because my boundaries are floppier than boiled spaghetti.”

“So what do you want from me?” The man I expect anger from, groans. The mountain of muscle I expect brutality from, grabs my shoulders and lowers his stance until we’re almost nose to nose. “You want me to be smaller, Scarlett? You want me to be less me?”

“No, I⁠—”

“You want me to be a normal guy from a normal world where I don’t have to be that abnormally large dude who follows Nova around sometimes?” His eyes ignite with an intensity that speaks of pain. A potency that touches the parts of me that constantly fold. Constantly tremble. “I can’t be smaller, Scarlett. And I can’t be someone I’m not. I can’t be inside your brain, pulling your strings and telling you when you need to straighten your spine, and I disagree that you bend it anyway.”

“I—”

“The only Scarlett I know is this woman who never backs down. It’s this woman who overcomes every single fucking obstacle thrown her way. You say you bend; I don’t fuckin’ see it. You say your boundaries are weak; I call bullshit.”

“I couldn’t even tell those guys at the gas station to leave.”

“You did tell them to leave! Several times. They didn’t listen. That’s not on you.”

“I needed you to save me.”

“I needed you to stop me from committing murder,” he counters on a growl. “If it was Linc standing there, and not me, he would’ve done the same fucking thing. If those guys had approached Nova instead of you, I would’ve acted the same. Linc would’ve acted the same. And frankly,” he shakes me until my teeth chatter, “I’d bet my bottom dollar you would’ve wiped them out too.”

“No, I⁠—”

“Because that’s the thing with women like you, isn’t it, Scarlett? You hold yourself to an impossible fucking standard and expect perfect responses to imperfect situations. You expect military precision reactions, even without military training. You can’t be the superhero every fucking time, Princess. But you think anything less is boiled spaghetti.” He lays his hand across the front of my throat and holds on. Tight, but not too tight. Firm, but not frightening. “Stop being so fuckin’ mean to yourself. Trust that you’ll do the best you can, when you can. Because I trust you to take care of business when it matters.” He leans closer and feathers a gentle kiss across my lips. “When I’m there to bury a motherfucker for you, you don’t have to get your hands dirty. When I’m busy elsewhere, I know you’ll win. Whatever the situation, against whoever tries you, no matter the circumstances.”

“I don’t trust me.” I blink fresh tears from the corners of my eyes. “I don’t know how not to freeze.”

“And yet, you lead the charge every time I piss you off. You fight, Princess. You wield your sword and cut me down, even knowing I could hurt you. I could abuse you. I could overpower you.” Another kiss. A stroke of his thumb across the pulse on the side of my neck. “You will never meet a bigger, badder, more dangerous man than me. I promise. I work hard every fucking day to make sure I won’t be beat. And maybe telling you that isn’t helping my argument. Maybe it only bolsters your boiled spaghetti thing. But from where I’m standing, you go toe to toe with the fuckin’ best every single day.” He drags me to the tips of my toes and slams a hungry kiss against my lips. He bites and soothes. Tastes and devours. He sucks the air straight out of my lungs and makes me weak with want. Then, panting, he pulls back and burns me with the intensity in his stare. “And you don’t lose. Stop thinking about that one time you let a weasel dick nobody mess with you, and start thinking about all the sorry motherfuckers who wish they could have your attention, but you’ve already flicked them off, because royalty doesn’t slum like that.” He inches back and shows off a deliciously charming grin. “Except with me. Slum, baby. And don’t break my heart on your way out the door.”

31

SEBASTION

WHAT’S IN A NAME?

Mav:

La Bruja’s outbound. You’ve got a couple of hours.

Serena’s off, too. You’re clear.

Staring down at my phone, I nod and vow to always have my brother’s back. To show him my thanks for helping keep my mother and Scarlett as far apart as humanly possible. Which is really fuckin’ hard, considering both women sleep in the same damn house.

I reply to his text with a simple thumbs up, then I lock my phone and slide it into my pocket. Finally, I glance across at Scarlett while she scribbles in a notebook on my bed.

She sits on her butt, her legs crossed, but her back is folded forward and her elbows become the pillars holding her upper half up. Her long hair hangs forward, pooling on my sheets, while her bottom lip swells in response to her nibbling teeth.