Page 71 of Lucky Laces
It’s always there in men, bubbling under the surface, waiting for the most opportune time to explode out and wound me.
I clutch at my armor, knowing that no matter how protected I am, this man is going to have a unique ability to wound me—so much so that I should probably turn and walk the hell out of this house.
Right fucking now.
But something else has me rooted in place.
Almosthopingthis man will do it.That he’ll hurt me so irrevocably I won’t have all these complicated feelings, and I’ll be able to put him back into the box in my mind for a player on my roster (andonlya player on my roster) and then everything will go back to normal.
Except, that’s not what happens.
Instead of lashing out, he releases his hair, drops his hand to his side, and when his words come they’re not sharp, not designed to wound.
They’re even.
Almost…pleading.
What the fuck?
“You should go home,” he says.“If you leave now you won’t miss the start of the third period.”Because we live just blocks apart and the walk won’t take me long.“That way we can both get some rest.”
Seriously.What the actual fuck?
I shift closer to this man…insideandout.
It’s dangerous, more complicated, but I can’t find it in me to care.
Because his tone isn’t sharp, isn’t mean.
Because my armor isn’t needed.
Because…there’s real fear in his eyes.
And because I fucking hate that.
“I promise to not give up on you,” I say and take another step toward him when he jerks, gray eyes locking with mine, proving to me that I’m not wrong.There’s fear inside of him—a fuck ton of it.“We can work through whatever mental block you have and with a little patience…”
My words trail off because I have the distinct notion that I’ve said completely the wrong thing.
Now both of his hands are clenched into fists.
And I’m back to clutching at armor, to bracing, to wishing, to hoping but knowing that’s going to come back to bite me.
He shakes his head sharply.
Then exhales.
“Patience won’t do a fucking thing, DeeDee.”A beat.“And it sure as fuck won’t fix me.Just go home, yeah?”With that, he turns and moves deeper into the back yard, not stopping until he’s by a huge oak tree.There he rests a palm on its trunk and his shoulders slump, his chin dropping toward his chest.
It’s my fucking brain that doesn’t work!
Patience won’t fix him.
The meeting in my office and that look in his eyes—no, I realize now, theshamein the stormy gray depths.
I hadn’t recognized the emotion for what it was.
Because it was so damned far from anything I was possibly expecting.It wouldn’t have even been on my top one hundred list of reasons why Hudson wasn’t getting with the program.
