Page 142 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part Two
“Have you seen a doctor? Or did you clean that up yourself?” Not that I’m medically inclined by any means, but his injuries do look like they warrant a visit to a physician.
Storm shrugs and smiles.
“Why are you so damn happy? You look like you got curb-stomped,” I throw back, and he laughs low.
“Nah, just one nigga with a big mouth,” he replies. “But for real, I’m okay. I’m glad you’re so concerned.”
He smiles again, licking the cut on his lip once.
I shake my head.
“I wanted to talk to you because it’s time we discussed next steps from here,” I say. Storm tilts his head, his expression unchanging.
“Such as?”
I sit down again, but this time in a seat closer to his.
“The kids will have to go back to school soon. Also, we need to formalize whatever this co-parenting thing is between us. The kids’ birthday is coming up in a few months, and I’d promised them Legoland in Tokyo, so I need to know if you want to go, if it’s safe for us to go—hell, if you’ve fixed your bullshit and undid whatever it was to let me fly again.”
It’s funny how I feel more humored and less enraged by his stunt today.
This is you getting stupid again, Shae….
Inhaling, I say, “And I need to go back to work soon. Things are…tense there, and I need to go in to sort things out.”
He tries to frown but winces when it pulls on his cut.
“What’s going on?” he asks, and his voice is so serious, I can tell he wants to step in and fix whatever’s giving me stress.
The only problem is, he can’t fix this, and even if he could, I don’t want him to.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” I tell him, and his features soften.
“I know there’s nothing you can’t do,” he replies, and damn, there I go getting drawn back into him.
I straighten in my chair, sitting on my hands while Storm continues to stare at me wordlessly.
After a long moment, he finally says, “Give me a week, and I’ll give you the answers to all these questions.”
That’s not what I was expecting him to say.
“Why a week? Why can’t we discuss it now?” I reply, shaking my head. Games. And just when I find myself slipping, he decides to play games, present secrets.
“Hey,” he says, and the feeling of his fingers on my chin makes me shiver.
I simply can’t help it.
“There are things in motion?—”
“Keep your secrets,” I hiss, moving away from him and heading for the exit.
“Stop, Shae,” Storm commands, and the depth in his voice freezes me. I sense his heat as he moves, his hands landing on my shoulders as he brings my body close to his.
“You’ve got to stop running every time I say something that upsets you, baby. Can we make that deal? That we’ll communicate like adults—no more spinning the truth or lying by omission.”
His thumbs press into the sore muscles right above my shoulder blades, and goddamn the moan that comes out of my mouth.
I clear my throat.
