Page 29 of Beacon

He makes a soft, rough sound. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Are you?”

“Yes. I am. I was an ass to you, and I’m sorry. It felt like you were… prying.”

“I wasn’t prying. I didn’t ask you a single question about how you were feeling.”

“But I could feel you. Trying to dig into my head.”

I let out a long exhale. “That wasn’t because of anything I did. You felt that way because you’re extra-sensitive about this topic.”

“I’m not?—”

“Yes, you are, Mack. Of course you are. You got hurt, and you pulled away from everyone and everything. And no one likes your decision or truly understands why you made it. Of course you’re sensitive about it.”

He doesn’t say anything, but I can hear him breathing. It feels like he’s listening.

So I clear the emotion from my throat and continue, “I really do get it, Mack. I know exactly how it feels to make a decision out of self-preservation that seems like the only option to… to survive and have no one else understand why I’m making it. You hold it close to you. You guard it like a treasure and lash out if anyone gets anywhere close. I know how it feels.”

“What decision did you make like that?”

“Are you kidding?” I’m dying to turn around again, but I still resist. It’s somehow safer to say all this when I can’t see his face. “Mack, do you have any idea how often otherpeople either implied or said straight out that I was heartless and stupid for not marrying you and making you happy and having all your babies?” My voice breaks despite my best effort.

I feel a reaction from him behind me. His body jerks, and he wraps his fingers around one of my forearms in a grip that feels weirdly protective.

Since he hasn’t replied in words, I go on. “No one ever hated me. But everyone loved you. Theylovedyou. And they resented me because they were sure I was hurting you. For no good reason.”

“I didn’t know they were doing that,” he murmurs in a very soft, very thick voice. “I never would have allowed it.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I know you never complained about me to anyone. But I’m not sure you could have stopped the talk even if you’d tried. It was inevitable. You’re… you’re Mack. And I was the bitch who kept breaking your heart.”

He sucks in a sharp breath, his fingers tightening on my arm. “You don’t get to talk that way about yourself. I’ve never let anyone say that about you, and you’re included. You don’t get to talk about yourself that way. Not around me.”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I don’t really think of myself as a bitch. But that’s how it… it must have appeared to other people. It doesn’t matter all that much anymore. I think everyone was relieved when we broke up. And my point isn’t to make you feel bad about something that happened tome that was outside your control. My point is that I understand as well as anyone how it feels to protect yourself with a choice that no one else understands. It makes you defensive. It makes you want to lash out. I get it, but it’s still not right for you to take that out on me. I wasn’t trying to pry.”

He’s breathing heavily. His exhales are blowing against my loose hair.

I’m clutching at the arm of the easy chair in front of me. “What you’re feeling isn’t me poking at you. It’s me worrying about you.”

“I don’t want you to worry about me,” he says gruffly.

“I know you don’t. But I’m not sure how the hell I’m supposed to stop.”

He must have tilted his head down because I suddenly feel him nuzzling my hair. “I’m sorry I talked like that to you.”

“That’s okay. I understand. I forgive you.”

“But you’re still mad.” He’s leaned down even more, moving my hair aside and pressing a little kiss on the side of my neck.

“I’m not mad.”

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

“I…” I gasp and arch my neck when he kisses me again, this time on the base of my jaw. The small gesture sends a shock wave of pleasure rippling through me. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to go away?” he murmurs against my ear.

I brace myself with both hands on the arm of the chair because my knees are getting wobbly. “No. Don’t go away.”

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