Page 70 of Lucky Laces
And her disappointment is palpable.
“No,” she says after a moment.“If they goherethen where shouldyougo?”
Spoken louder and slower than before.As though I just heard her wrong.
“I don’t think?—”
She sighs.“Just try?”
Shame bubbles up, mixing with the frustration and with…anger.
Because why am I like this?
But I still lift a finger and point.
Her sigh this time is displeased and razor sharp and?—
Something snaps inside me.
Twenty-Three
Diana
One moment,I’m tapping the screen of the tablet and trying to keep the frustration out of my tone?—
The next he’s on his feet.
I lurch forward, reaching to tug him back down next to me.“Your leg?—”
“Fuck my leg!”he snaps, jerking out of range and shoving a hand through his hair so hard that I worry he’ll rip the locks from his scalp.“It’s my fucking brain that doesn’t work!”
And then he’s storming out of the room, his limp barely evident in his quick, furious strides.
I’m torn between shock and annoyance.
Then settle on annoyance.
Because that man better not tear those fucking stitches—I’ll never hear the end of it from Doc…and also, maybe I don’t want to see him bleeding again.
Something that has my annoyance fading.
And transforming into concern.
Because his reaction isn’t like Huddy.Not at all.
“Dammit,” I whisper, shoving up to standing and following the wake of his anger out into the back yard.
He’s pacing on the porch, one hand clenched in his hair, the other fisted at his side.
Terrorizing those poor sutures.
“You need to cool off and sit down,” I order.
His head snaps up and the cold look in his eyes has me bracing.
Here it is.
The part where they turn mean.
