"Idiot," I mutter at myself.
How would Doctor Parker know about my credit or teeth? Why would she care? All she knows is her fucked up client is rushing into a relationship with a violent man. No way will Doctor Parker be supportive. She'll meddle, and Darla will back away from me. What in the hell will my plan be then? I can't let her go but holding her hostage feels wrong too.
I'm a ball of irritation and stupidity by the time Doctor Parker leaves the apartment. Once I've locked the place down, I find Darla in the kitchen. She takes a bottle of Yoohoo and sits at the kitchen table.
"How did the shrink go?" I ask, fingering her thick blonde hair.
"I realize I don't know much about you."
Anger rising in me, I frown. "Did she talk shit about me?"
"You're very insecure. I find that a curious thing," she says, tapping her chin. "Were you a shy child? Did you wet the bed?"
Darla leans her head back and laughs at her own joke. Watching her, I take in all of the beauty before me. If Doctor Parker tries to convince Darla to dump me, I don't know how I'll react. Normally, I kill people who stand in my way. Killing the shrink might be a bad move. Instead, I might want to threaten her husband until Doctor Parker tells Darla I'm a solid guy.
"What are you thinking about?" Darla asks, frowning now. "You look a little scary."
Leaning forward, I kiss her cheek. "I am a little scary."
"You hide it usually. What else do you hide?"
My hands wrap around her shoulders and massage the tense muscles. "Nothing important."
"Are you close to your family?"
"No. Wait, I'm friends with them on Facebook. Does that count?"
"Not really."
Darla sighs as I massage her neck. "Do you think of your mom often?"
I refuse to react physically to her question. Mentally, I'll be perfectly happy never to think of my mom again.
"No."
"Was she a bad mother?" she asks, turning her head to look back at me.
"She was vacant."
Darla frowns, not truly understanding.
"You never told me about your parents," I say, changing the subject while my fingers work at the tension in her neck.
"They died in a plane crash. It was one of those small planes, and my dad's friend was the pilot. Bad weather and pilot error caused the crash."
"Do you hate the pilot?"
"No."
"You should," I say, and Darla leans back against my chest.
"Do you wish someone caused your mom's death, so you wouldn't have to hate her?"
Her words are like a punch to the gut. If she were anyone else, I'd fucking hate her for being right. Instead, I study Darla staring at me with her big eyes and imagine what my mom might think about her. Darla is too curvy and inviting for a prim and proper woman like Rebecca Sheridan. My mother also didn't approve of public displays of emotion, and Darla is often a walking ball of feelings. No, my mom would certainly not approve of Darla.
"I don't think her dying at someone else's hands would have helped much. I was too old when she died to romanticize her."
Darla's gaze darkens as if my sad sack childhood breaks her heart.
"Don't buy into your female need to pity me. I grew up in a nice neighborhood in a safe home and went to a good school. My father replaced his beloved first love with a second wife a year later. My step mom treated me like a hero for remembering to put down the lid after a piss."
Darla's gaze softens, and a smile spread over her lips. "Do you want to stop talking or can I ask more questions?"
"Ask away, beautiful."
"Is your father mad that you didn't go into the Navy?"
Skimming her forehead with my lips, I smile. "I did go into the Navy. Went into SEALs training too but quit halfway through. Yeah, that part pissed him off."
"Why did you quit?"
"I didn't want some asshole bossing me around. In the military, even the toughest fuckers need to follow orders," I explain before taking her hand and guiding her out of the kitchen and into the living room. We sit on the couch where I wrap her in my arms possessively.
"I was lying in bed one day during training. My body hurt. My exhausted mind was racing. SEALs training is brutal, but I was doing well. Making my dad proud."
Pausing, I link my large fingers with Darla's short, slim ones.