Page 95 of Chasing After You
I think I might be sick. God, the thought of someone hurting Mirabelle when I wasn’t here to keep her safe makes me physically ill.
She’s picking at her cuticles now, and I quickly dunk my head under the water to rinse out the conditioner, before grabbing my towel and wrapping it around my waist. Mirabelle tries to smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “It’s fine. I’m pretty sure I imagined it. I looked, and there was nobody there.” She shrugs, forcing a laugh.
“You thought there was someone there,and you went to look?”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Mirabelle asks, her eyes narrowing at me.
I thought I knew what fear felt like, but it’s never felt like this for someone else. If there had been someone in the backyard, it would have been so easy for them to overpower her. “It means you’re not supposed to go look if you think someone is trespassing. It means you’re supposed to call someone, Mirabelle! Fuck, I know how strong you are, but you’re also what? Five foot two at most? You’re lucky if someone was actually there, they didn’t—” My voice breaks, unable to voice it out loud.
“Who was I supposed to call? You? My uncle? Wilson? All of you were in Colorado, unless I dreamt the game I watched last night,” Mirabelle exclaims, but her bottom lip is trembling. “I made sure the security alarm was set and everything was locked. There was no one there. It was fine, Henry.”
“Mira, you call the police.” I exhale sharply, holding my towel in one hand and dragging the other over the stubble on my jaw. She should have told me last night when I called her. I’m hurt she didn’t, and I’m mad at myself for not knowing, despite the fact there was no way for me to know. “It’s notfine. They never caught the person who set your family’s house on fire, in case you forgot that.”
Her jaw falls open, and I know I took it too far, but I need Mirabelle to take this seriously instead of trying to downplay it. “I’m very aware. For the record, I was on the phone with my brother when all of this happened.Je ne suis pas une putain de gamine alors ne me traite pas comme tel.”29
She scoffs, turning on her heel to walk away.Fuck! I’m not trying to fight with her, but I need her to listen to me.
I grab my underwear and pants off the bathroom counter, quickly pulling them on so I’m not chasing after her with a towel wrapped around my waist. “Mirabelle,” I call out and she ignores me, picking her things off the ground. “Mon cœur,” I say softer, and this time, Mirabelle stops.
She turns to look at me, her brown eyes glistening.
“Tu n’es pas une enfant. Je suis désolé.”30 I mean it, too.
Mirabelle tilts her chin up. “You’re acting like an asshole,” she says. Her stubbornness, as infuriating as it is at times, is one of my favorite things about her.
“I am,” I agree. I shouldn’t have brought up her family’s home.
“You’re overreacting.”
I scoff, shaking my head. “I’m not. This is serious,” I say, slowly moving closer.
“Nothing happened.”
“How do you know for sure there wasn’t someone there?” I counter, and Mirabelle crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m not going to apologize for wanting you to be safe. You should have told me last night,” I say, stopping in front of her. “I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t in my life. I’m sorry I made you feel like a child, but I’m not sorry for being upset about the possibility of someone hurting you while I wasn’t here. I care about you, Mira. It would fucking wreck me if something happened to you.”
Mirabelle’s face crumples and she closes the gap between us to bury her face in my chest as I wrap my arms around her. Her tears hit my skin, striking me like daggers to the heart.
“You’re being an asshole,” she mumbles, and I run my fingers through her soft hair.
“I’m being an asshole.”
“I care about you too,” Mirabelle admits. “I’m glad you’re back.”
Yeah, me too.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Mirabelle
WE WENT TO a small local bar last night with Andrew and Wilson to play darts, and I wish we’d gone back there tonight instead of this trendy bar. It was easier to talk, and Henry was more relaxed. The guys on the team were excited they had a weekend off and Henry’s birthday fell on Saturday night. Henry didn’t want to kill the enthusiasm so he agreed we would all go out to celebrate.
Henry has his arm draped over the back of my chair as he and Wilson debate which past NFL team should have won the Super Bowl but didn’t. I’m having fun people watching with my drink because I feel like I never get to see any of these guys outside of the stadium, and it’s entertaining to watch them decide which girls to go up to.
Andrew nudges me with his elbow, his blue eyes dancing with amusement. “God, is this what you feel like living with them?” he asks, and I grin.
“Yes.”
“I would think they spend enough time talking about football, they wouldn’t want to do it at bars,” he jokes, before nodding his head in Quinn’s direction where he’s chatting with a pretty girl. “Mackie has the right idea.”
