Her hand shot out, shoving him in the chest. She just reacted. It had always been like that between them though—from the very start. All impulse. All reaction.
She never minced words with him. Even after she knew about his history, she was never afraid. Never hesitant. Never tiptoed. Never behaved as though she should.
“Stop it! Don’t say that. I get enough of it from my father and brothers.”
“Maybe you should listen to them then. Leave me. Stay away from me.”
She glanced around wildly. Spotting a marker on the counter, she stalked over and snatched it up.
“What are you doing . . .” His voice faded as she yanked off the marker’s cap. Bending, she drew a great long line in front of her along the tile floor.
Standing back, she stared him directly in the eyes. “There.”
He glanced from the line to her. “What the hell is that?”
“That’s the line, North Callaghan. Remember?” She felt her nostrils flare as she exhaled a breath. “And I’m stepping over it.” She made a great show of lifting her foot and crossing the line. “Now what are you going to do about it?”
He opened his mouth, for once speechless. Usually she was the stammerer, but here, right now, he was at a loss.
“What are you so afraid of?” she demanded, still searching his face. “Is this really an ‘I’m not good enough for you’ moment?”
“It’s the truth.” He stared grimly.
“Nuh-uh.” She shook her head fiercely. “You’re a coward, North Callaghan. Don’t ever think you are doing this for me.”
“Oh, I’m a coward. You’re right about that.” He shook his head with self-disgust. “You don’t get it. Every morning I wake up with this sick, twisting sensation in my gut.” He clutched his stomach, clenching deep against his ridiculous abs, the tips of his fingers whitening from the strength of his grip.
He continued, “Most people wake up relaxed and groggy, their minds still lost to sleep or dreaming about their coffee or what they want to eat for breakfast. That in-between state, you know? Not quite awake and not asleep, when everything in the world is perfect and clean and fresh?”
She nodded. It sounded like many of her weekend mornings when she slept late.
“I never get that. I haven’t had that since I was a kid in high school. The past never leaves me. Every morning I wake up and I feel sick all over again once I remember it all. I take that first big breath and it feels like fucking razors going down. Every day I feel that way. Every day I relive it. I’m broken. I ruin everything I touch. I have to leave you alone before I destroy you, too.”
“North—”
He continued coldly, his words a steady rain of bullets. “If you knew anything about me, you’d be disgusted.”
“Why?” she pressed. “Tell me. Talk to me.”
“In prison, I watched—” He stopped and swallowed. “I stood by as men were . . .” His voice strangled and he stopped again. He looked away from her a long moment before looking back at her. When he did her heart stuttered at the deadness of his stare. “You can’t help anyone in prison. Not unless you want a world of shit to rain down on you, too.”
She slid a step closer. “So you’re saying that other men were hurt and you didn’t try to help them?” She stepped forward, reaching for him, eager to touch him and offer comfort.
He flinched and jerked back. “Don’t say it’s all right. The boy I was when I went into that prison might have committed a crime, but he had honor, humanity. He would never have stood by as men were attacked . . . as men begged for help, crying like babies as horrible, unthinkable things were done to them.” He punched his chest with a fist. “I. Did. Nothing.”
She touched his arm. “You can’t blame—”
“Stop it. This was just sex. That’s all it was and all it can ever be. Now if you’re okay with that, fine. If not, you should leave.”
She dropped her arm, everything in her wilting inside. She had believed all along that he wasn’t a man who would hurt her—at least not physically. And that still held true. Her heart, however, was another matter. Right now it was dying.
She gave herself a mental slap. Faith had always prided herself on being one of those women to steer clear of bad boys. She had seen so many women make poor choices when it came to the men in their lives. Boyfriends and husbands who abused them and their children, who failed to provide, who abandoned them. She had never been tempted by men with unsavory pasts, and yet here she was. She had been tempted. She had fallen for this guy who was not long-term-relationship material.
“Like I said,” she finished, her voice strong and steady as she stared him down. “Coward.” Turning, she strode across the room and grabbed the doorknob, yanking it open.
“Faith?”
She stopped halfway out the door and looked back at him.
“That line you drew on the floor of my kitchen?”
“Yes?”
“You did it with a permanent marker.”