Page 68 of The Ache That Stayed

“You don’t get to put me through that again—”

“Volpi.”

I swung again. He caught my wrist firmly mid-air before I could shove him again.

“Don’t touch me.” I snapped.

I tried to pull away, but he didn’t let go. His thumb circled the inside of my wrist. Once. Twice.

Like he was trying to steady me. Or maybe himself. It sent tingles through my entire body.

“You’re overreacting.”

“Ha,” my laugh came out sharp and brittle. “Overreacting?”

I tried to pull free. “You vanish. Don’t answer. Then walk in like I’m the fucking problem?”

I was seething now.

“Do you know what it feels like? Waiting? Not knowing if you’re dead.” I took in a sharp breath. “Thinking you’d just—left again?”

His expression changed. The anger disappeared so quickly I almost thought I’d imagined it. A stillness settled in its place.

Regret. Raw enough that I wished I hadn’t seen it.

His grip tightened. “I told you to stay where it was safe.”

“I’m not your fucking dog.” I spat.

I shoved him again with my free hand. This time he didn’t move. He just stared down at me.

“Roxanne—”

“What are you going to do?” I challenged. “Bind me? Lock me up? Hide me?”

His expression darkened with a twitch in his left eye. His jaw ticked. A muscle flexed in his cheek.

Oh. Shit.

For a second, I thought he might actually consider it. The silence between us was heavier than any threat.

“Careful,” he warned.

I shoved him again. “Or what?”

“Or that mouth is going to get you into trouble.”

My face was now closer to his, almost nose to nose, instead of backing off.

“Is that supposed to scare me?”

“No.” His voice dropped lower. “It’s supposed to warn you.”

“About what?”

His gaze held mine. “About me.”

The answer came like a whisper; I almost missed it.