Page 51 of Princess

And right now I don’t give a fuck about what he thinks.

We stay another hour, working out the final details. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.

I half expect Grant to catch up with me afterward to try to convince me not to come. I’m ready for the argument, but he disappears.

Instead, I fall into step with Mack as we walk back toward the main house.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, clearly reading my mind.

“I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are. But he’ll get over it.”

“I don’t even know what his problem is. I mean, what the hell? He thought I’d just sit this one out? Those are my people in the bunker.”

“Sure, they are. But you’rehispeople, and he’s terrified of you getting hurt.” Mack shakes his head. “It’s not fair to you, and it’s stupid. But guys’ll do a lot of stupid things when it comes to the people they love.”

I start to argue with the wordlovebut then decide against it. It’s too hard to explain my convoluted relationship with Grant, and I don’t know Mack that well anyway. Instead, I intentionally shift the subject by saying lightly, “You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

“I always know what I’m talking about.” He’s usually good about making eye contact, but he doesn’t right now. “You’ll learn that pretty quick about me.”

His slight diffidence makes me curious. “Do you have someone?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, and I start to think he’s not going to at all. Then he finally meets my gaze. “Sure, I’ve got a woman. She just hasn’t realized it yet.”

* * *

I go to bed alone again tonight.

This time it’s not because Grant is doing the evening perimeter check. I have no idea where he is right now. We’ve been avoiding each other since the afternoon.

If there was something to say that I thought would change things, I’d summon the courage to go find him and make him talk to me. But the man is like granite. Unmovable once he’s made up his mind.

And a long time ago he decided I’m fragile, made of crystal—and therefore no good for anything that takes courage and strength. He’ll take care of me. Protect me and make sure I get everything I need. He’ll even fuck me now that he’s gotten over whatever was holding him back in that for so long.

But he’ll never trust me as an equal. Not in any way that counts.

I can see that now. Which means all the hope and effort and feelings and desires I’ve poured into this relationship have all been for nothing. Tossed into a black hole.

I’ve been in a painfully blank daze all evening because of it, and I curl up in bed, facing the wall. All alone.

For a while, I wonder if he’s going to stay away all night, but he comes in after just a half hour. He’s silent as he walks in and starts washing up. Although I feel his eyes on me, I don’t turn over or even move.

It feels like something is going to happen. I’m so tense as I wait for it that I start to tremble.

After a few minutes, I stop hearing the rustle of his motion. He must have washed up and taken off his clothes for bed. Now I’m not sure. It feels like he’s just standing there staring down at me.

“You’re still mad at me?” he asks at last, a lot of gravel in his voice.

The question surprises me so much I turn over onto my back so I can see him. I was right. He’s looming over the bed, his eyes fixed on me. “Yes, I’m still mad! Did you think this was something small that I’d just shrug off?”

I give him a chance to respond to this, but he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move.

So I go on. “You belittled me, humiliated me, and treated me like a child—and you did it in front of everyone. Is there any world where you think I’d be okay with that?”

“No, I didn’t think you’d be okay with it.” For the first time, he glances away.

For some reason, that small, helpless gesture gives me hope. I sit up in bed. “Then why did you do it? Why did you do that to me, Grant?” Despite my best effort, my voice cracks just slightly as I say his name.

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