Page 43 of Rapunzel Is Losing It

The ride was over before it had even started as he lowered me to the blanket that marked the craft station. I quickly tugged my skirt back into place, heat blooming on my cheeks. I was such a lost cause.

“You craft, I check your shoulder,” he ordered.

“Yeah, that sounds like fun,” I muttered.

“Just run with your ideas.”

I picked up a square piece of leather from when I was convinced I should bind my own notebooks. “Victor,” I sighed.

“Have fun,” he ordered and crouched behind me.

“Gosh, you’re annoying.”

He didn’t react to my insult. Or if he did, I completely blacked out, because his hands were in my hair. He gathered it all together in the back, his warm knuckles brushing over the delicate skin of my neck. My spine stiffened at the touch. It was so careful, so slow, sonew. Victor had touched me a number of times, but not like this. He draped my hair over my good shoulder, giving way for his breath to feather out over my skin.

“Where?” he asked, voice dropped to a husky whisper against my neck.

I reached around, trying to show him where the stool had hit me.

“Tell me if I hurt you.”

I nodded, voice lost in the depth of my body, every cell zeroing in on where his fingertips pushed in under the neckline of my shirt. They scooped up the elastic strap of my bra, too. My shoulder came free, the fabric of my clothes barely touching my throbbing skin.

“It got you good.” A single digit traced the heated outline of where the bruise was forming. “Lift your arm for me.”

My brain switched to autopilot as I moved my arm in each direction he advised - and I pathetically soaked up every single touch he afforded me. “Let me get you some ice.”

“It’s fine,” I breathed.

“I’m sorry.” I almost didn’t hear the words, quietly uttered into the crook of my neck.

“For what?”

“Letting Julian get to you.”

“You didn’t- what are you- why would-“ I shook my head against the onslaught of crisscrossing thoughts. “I let him walk through the front door. That’s on me.”

“I should have been here.”

“I asked you to look after Del. You did exactly what you were supposed to.”

“I shouldn’t have let Julian blackmail me into getting Del released from the hospital.”

“Are you serious?” I twisted around to glare at him over my bare shoulder. “No. You do not get to come intomyhouse and feel guilty for being on the shitty end of someone’s blackmail schemes. What the actual fuck, Victor?”

“Fuck?” He worked his jaw, my use of a few swear words apparently hitting home. “No, that’s not-”

“You did everything he asked as soon as he asked. My life would be very different if my father had done the same seventeen years ago. I wouldn’t have sat in that room for days, wishing they’d just get it over with and kill me like they’d killed my mother. You do not get to feel sorry fordoing the right thinginstead of trying to outplay someone with a gun.”

“He didn’t let you go. I did what he wanted, he still didn’t let you go, and he got my family involved.”

“That’s not on you.”

“I should have-”

“Shut up,” I bristled, “I took the risks. I came up with the idea to hire Delilah. I encouraged her to date Beck. Those things are on me. You went along with every single stupid idea. It’s not your fault that things spiraled out of control. Six years ago, you asked me to hire you so you could hide from your family, and I put that in jeopardy. So yes, I’m being more careful. Maybe I am holding back. Because I’m trying to calculate for bad things happening, not just to me, but to the people I care about.”

“Hmm.”

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