Page 106 of Not Looking
There was only so much hurt that I could avoid when I didn’t know what would hurt him. At some point, it was on him to meet me halfway—to tell me how I could navigate the minefield.
Russy lifted his head and looked at the door. A soft whine came from his throat.
“Randy?” I tried again. “Russy really wants in. Can I at least let him in?”
No answer.
Annoyance turned to anger. I got it, he was hurting. Over what, I didn’t know.
He could shut me out, but how dare he shut out his own dog?
My anger started to spill over as I stood. For months, I’d done everything at his pace out of fear of reopening old wounds. I didn’t mind. But somehow, it wasn’t enough.
I’d made a mistake, that was clear. But even after all the times I’d tried to show him that I wanted to be careful of his past, he’d acted like the first stumble was an intentional dagger to his heart.
I rested my arm above my head against the door and leaned my forehead on it.
“Damnit, Randy,” I growled. “I get it. I hurt you. But how the hell was I supposed to know that I needed to avoid saying that when you won’t talk to me about your past? It’s impossible for me to know what’s off-limits when you don’t tell me!”
The answering silence was infuriating.
“Fine! You know what! Don’t talk! Just be miserable without attempting to fix it! Shut me out! But, damnit, don’t shut out Russy! He’s out here wondering why he’s not allowed to go to you. That’s a real asshole move.”
I stomped down the stairs and toward the door. My hand was on the handle before I stopped.
Rage aside, I did love Randy.
I loved him. I wanted him to be my mate.
In any other relationship, I could go home and trust that we could make time to talk the following day once we’d both cooled down.
But… this wasn’t a normal relationship. There was a good chance that if I walked out, Randy would never allow me back in. His trust was too fragile.
“I’m scared…”
The memory of a whisper from months before—from the day I’d asked to court him.
I dropped the handle, let out a sigh, and rested my forehead on the front door.
It had been years since I’d gone hunting, but I remembered my dad telling me that sometimes the wounded animals were the most dangerous—the most likely to flee or lash out.
He was wounded, and if I walked out that door, it would rip him apart in ways I couldn’t understand.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, held it to the count of ten, then released it slowly. I did that two more times, until my anger started to subside.
I turned and glanced back up at the loft. The bedroom door was still closed.
I sighed, strode to the couch, snagged the brown blanket from where it had landed on the floor, and pulled it over myself.
I would stay.
Randy needed me to.
Chapter 23 - Randy
“Fine! You know what!” Craig growled from outside the door. “Don’t talk! Just be miserable without attempting to fix it! Shut me out! But, damnit, don’t shut out Russy! He’s out here wondering why he’s not allowed to go to you. That’s a real asshole move.”
My fingernails bit into my palms as I attempted to stop trembling. The floor under my ass and the solid wood door at my back did nothing to lessen the feeling that I was a leaf caught in a storm.
