Page 29 of Cause When You Love Someone
“I respect the hustle. Let me know if you need anything.”
“You know I will. I love you.”
“I love you more.”
Clarke cleared her throat the second I ended the call.
“Who was that?” she asked with no hesitation.
“That was my little sister. You met her.”
“I remember. The pretty girl with dimples like yours,” she recalled. “You seem like a good big brother.”
“I try to be. Isabella deserves the world, and my mom isn’t equipped to make sure she gets it.” I grimaced. “Are you ready to go?”
“No.” Clarke buried herself under a throw blanket I kept on the couch. “I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to be alone.”
A low whistle slipped through my lips. “What am I going to do with you?”
“I have a few ideas, but feeding me feels like the safest choice,” she answered from under the thin material.
Unsure of how to respond, I removed my glasses and pinched the bridge of my nose. I may not have admitted it, but I didn’twant Clarke to leave. If I took her home, I would spend the night staring at my Kindle and thinking of everything else. On the other hand, I wasn’t sure how long I could practice discipline before I made her sit on my face.
“Damn. Do I annoy youthatmuch?”
“You don’t annoy me at all, Clarke,” I corrected her. “There’s something brewing between us. This shit just feels dangerous.”
“Speaking of dangerous, I like your bike,” she said, changing the subject. “I never took you for the type to ride a motorcycle.”
“Why?” I asked, making my way to the kitchen with her on my heels.
“Because you seem . . . mild-mannered. Most men who ride motorcycles are aggressive, belligerent, and covered in tattoos.”
I washed my hands, then opened the refrigerator. “Seems like you learned two lessons today.”
“Two?”
“Yeah. Don’t judge a book by its cover, and everybody isn’t your friend.”
Her mouth sank into a sad smile. “Don’t do that. Simone has been my bestie for over a decade.”
“Then she should know your triggers. When you told her you were done for the night, she should’ve made sure you made it home. We’ve been together for at least an hour, and you haven’t received one call or text. Real ones don’t move like that.”
“I can’t argue with you on that one,” she muttered. “Well, I appreciate you answering my call on your off day. They say the way a man treats women reflects the relationship he has with his mama. You and yours must be tight.”
“That’s only true when you have a good mother.”
Flashbacks of Mariah showing up at the club prompted me to shut the fridge door so hard, the glass bottles inside knocked against each other. When I faced Clarke, her penny-colored eyes were wide as she stared me down.
“My bad. Me and my mom don’t have a good relationship. If anything, my sister is the reason I treat women right.”
“You’re so lucky. I always wanted a sibling. Maybe then, my mom would have someone else to torture.”
“You have too much freewill to be locked in a box, Clarke. What do you think will happen if you say fuck everybody else’s feelings and do what you want?”
“Everyone will hate me.” She breathed a laugh through her slender nose.
“Your insecurities aren’t funny to me. Tell me the truth.”
