Page 45 of Wade’s Wrath

“Doing what?” he asked.

“Trying to make my head explode,” she said.

“Little bit,” he admitted.

Harlow slapped the clipboard against his chest. “Count your own damn beer.” Wade caught her wrist. The movement happened quickly—too quickly, and Harlow froze. So did Wade. His fingers immediately loosened, but for one terrible second, he wasn't Wade—he was Frank. She was back in the horrible relationship with him, remembering how her back hit the car as Frank's fingers dug into her wrist. She heard his threat in her head. You will walk down that aisle. Harlow jerked away from Wade, and the clipboard hit the floor.

“Harlow.” She backed into the shelving, as her heart slammed violently in her chest. Wade didn't move. “Hey.” She couldn't answer. Fuck. She hated this, and she hated Frank. But most of all, she hated herself for letting him scare her now without even being present.

“Harlow, look at me.” She forced her eyes up. Wade stood several feet away now with his hands open at his sides. He wasn’t approaching her and was being careful not to touch her. “It's me.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“You sure?” he asked.

She nodded too quickly. “Yeah.”

“Breathe,” he whispered.

“Don't tell me to breathe.” His eyebrows rose, and somehow, that familiar expression helped.

Harlow sucked in a shaky breath, then another. “Better?”

“A little,” she said.

“I'm sorry,” he breathed.

“You didn't do anything,” she insisted.

“I grabbed you,” he said.

“You were stopping me from hitting you with a clipboard,” she reminded.

“Wouldn't have hurt,” he assured.

“You don't know that. I'm stronger than I look,” she teased. That earned the smallest smile from him.

Harlow rubbed her wrist, and Wade noticed. His face darkened. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, you didn't,” she insisted.

He nodded slowly, but he still looked angry. “Are you mad at me?” she asked.

“What? Why would I be mad at you?” he asked.

“Because you look pissed,” she pointed out.

“I am, but not at you,” he insisted.

She already knew the answer to her question, but she still needed to ask. “Are you mad at Frank?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he admitted.

Harlow sighed. “I hate that he can still do this to me.”

Wade's expression softened. “He hurt you, and that doesn't disappear because you climbed out a window.”

“I wish it did,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around her body.