Well, fuck. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?
He’s not wrong about Becca. She was always so easy, because she never spoke up, never questioned me, or anyone else for that matter. Until the day she left me, I don’t think she had ever done a single thing for herself because she really wanted it, or needed it. I can’t fault her for ultimately doing what she felt she needed to do. The way she did it sucked. I mean, really, really, fucking sucked. But, in the end, I was stronger because of it; I am stronger, and so is Danika.
Entering the condo, I’m greeted by silence.
Where’s Princess?
I check the kitchen first, with no sign of either of them, and then move to my bedroom.
Nada.
Returning to the hall, I pause and listen for any movement. I return to the living room and look around.
Where the hell are they?
That’s when I notice the patio door is cracked. I make my way over there slowly, until I can see her sitting in the dark on one of the lounge chairs with Princess on her lap.
I slide the door open and approach her with more than a little trepidation.
She knows I’m here. No way she didn’t hear the door, but she doesn’t react to my presence. Princess, on the other hand, jumps from her lap onto mine the second I stop next to the lounge chair facing Danika. She’s facing the water and doesn’t even acknowledge my arrival.
Sliding my fingers through Princess’ silky fur, I take a steadying breath before I start. “Danika, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be such a dick.”
She scoffs, never looking away from the water.
I’m so screwed here. I just need to tell her the truth.
“You may not believe me, but I’m just worried about your safety. That’s it. It has nothing to do with your capability as a reporter. I think you are fucking brilliant at your job. It’s just, I know you have to deal with some unsavory characters at times, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
She finally moves her eyes to meet mine, and I see the anger still lingering there, along with affection, which makes this even worse.
“You have to stop treating me like a child just because you don’t have control over everything in your life anymore.”
I recoil at her words. The truth fucking hurts, and she has managed to see through my bullshit in a matter of weeks. “I’m that obvious?”
Dropping her head back against the chair, she stares up at the night sky and frowns. “Truth be told, Gabe and I had a bit of a talk last weekend.”
That traitorous asshole!
“Oh, really? And what did my so-called best friend have to say about me?”
“Nothing I hadn’t already figured out for myself. I asked him if you had always been like this.”
She doesn’t need to explain what “this” is. I get it. I’m a fucking control freak.
“And what did he say?”
Turning her head back to me, she gives me a sad smile. “He said you got worse after the accident.”
Did I?
There’s no denying I’m demanding by nature. I don’t settle for second best, in anything. I’ll devote any and all of my power to ensuring I get the best out of people, and sometimes, yeah, it makes me come across like a real grade-A asshole. But have I gotten worse after the accident? I don’t feel like I’ve changed, but self-exploration isn’t exactly my thing either.
“Well, if Gabe says it, then it’s probably true. He knows me better than anyone.”
She slides forward in the chair until she is sitting cross-legged in front of me and takes my hand in hers, sliding her warm palm along mine. “He loves you, and he didn’t say much, even though I may have pried…a little.”
I grin at her admission. “Why were you prying?”
A sheepish smile spreads across her face. “Because I wanted to know everything about you.” She stands and reaches down to grab Princess from my lap. After setting her down on the deck, she slides onto my lap and wraps her arms around my neck. “Because I knew I had already fallen in lust with you and I needed to know who you really were, at your core, and he is the best person to ask.”
In lust with me?
I’m not exactly sure what that means or what I’m supposed to do with that.
Her warm breath skates across my ear as her lips skim my cheek. I wrap my arms around her, pulling her fully against me and turn my head to her. “Aren’t I the best person to ask?”
“Probably.” Her reply barely leaves her lips before I cover them with mine. The need to claim her, to prove to her and myself we are meant to be here, like this, overwhelms me. I need her to realize everything I have said, or done, has been because I care about her, more than I probably should at this point.