“Probably as many times as it’ll take for me to convince you I’m not afraid. I know you’ll never hurt me.”
“How the hell could you know that?” I threw my hands in the air, incredulous. “I don’t even know that. There’s a violence inside me that isn’t getting better.” Actually, since I’d started up at the gym, it had improved. A lot. But not nearly enough time had passed to safely say I was cured. “You have no idea what I’ve been through, or what it’s turned me into. So can you just believe me when I say I’m not safe?”
“Or…maybe if you could, I don’t know, tell me what you’ve been through, then I could understand.”
No way in hell was I ever talking about that. Glaring at her, I growled. “I thought you said you weren’t going to push anymore.”
“Crap.” She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I forgot.” With a relinquishing sigh, she began to climb off the bed. “I’ll leave.”
I hated to see her go, but this was what was best, so I bit my tongue and let her walk.
When she paused at the door and turned back, hope flared inside me. I have no idea why I was hopeful. I didn’t want her to push, unless...somewhere deep inside of me, a small part did want her to push, to dig in and find my demons, then save me by slaying them all.
But, no. Mostly I wanted to keep them all as far away from her as possible.
“I just want to know one thing. I think I deserve to know one thing since, you know, you’re putting my life at risk and all by living here in such close quarters with me.”
“What?” I uttered, pretty sure I couldn’t answer whatever she asked.
“What did Pick say to change your mind and make you agree to share an apartment with me?”
I hesitated. Pick hadn’t wanted her to know and unnecessarily scare her. But maybe if she was alerted to the danger, we could avoid it. And besides, I did feel as if I owed her some kind of explanation.
“He said someone’s been leaving threats on your locker at work.”
Her eyebrows crinkled before she shook her head. “No...” she said slowly. “I haven’t gotten a single note left on my locker.”
“That’s because they’ve always been intercepted by other people first. And those people have always brought them to Pick.”
Blurting out a laugh, she shook her head. “That’s ridiculous. No one’s threatened me. Pick probably only said that to get your protective instincts going. It’s bullshit, Knox.”
“He showed me the notes. They weren’t nice. They said shit like ‘You’ll get yours, bitch,’ and ‘Don’t sleep too heavily tonight.’ One described your car and an outfit you wore. Someone is stalking you.”
Shuddering, she hugged herself. But just as quickly she frowned. “I still call bullshit.”
“Why do you think at least one guy always walks you to your car every night, why someone usually follows you back to the break room?”
With a snort, she rolled her eyes. “Because I work with the overly protective big brother type? I don’t know.”
“Because Pick’s told them to,” I corrected. “You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed anything unusual these past few months since working at Forbidden. Prank phone calls. Problems with your car?”
She paused as if something had recently happened to her car. But then she scowled. “My car’s a piece of shit. It never works right. And everyone gets hang-ups now and again. I assure you, nothing has struck my radar as threatening.” She lifted her eyebrows. “And that includes you.”
I watched her, worry growing inside me. Turning her nose up in denial might be worse than if she’d just been blissfully unaware. Now she might purposely put herself into a sketchy situation just to prove no one was after her.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” I said. “Just keep it safe.”
Narrowing her eyes, she met my warning with a rebellious glare. “Well, aren’t you just the pot calling the kettle black.”