Page 28 of Ravaged
“You’re just patronizing me. Everything I said to you went in one ear and right out the other,” she continues.
Relief so strong rushes through me it’s a damn good thing I’m already sitting down. For a minute there, I thought ...
“It didn’t.” When she snorts, I squeeze her shoulders. “I heard you. I promise.”
“No,” she objects. “You listened, but you didn’thearme.”
Again, I don’t answer because she won’t like it. Hell, I don’t like it. Instead, I pose a question of my own that has been nagging at me since I walked out of her office days earlier.
“Miriam,” I rasp. Stop. Clear my throat. And try again. “Miriam, when I asked you to give Daniel a chance, did I ...”
When my voice trails off, she flattens a palm on my abs and pushes away, tipping her head back to meet my gaze. Concern darkens those expressive eyes as they roam my face.
“Did you what?”
“Did I force you into something you didn’t want? Did I impose what I needed on you and steal your choice?”
There. It was out there. My fear. The one that had run in my head at night like a rat in a cage.
Too many times over the years I’d witnessed men commit the same sin against my mother and aunts. Whether it was something as small as them insisting on meat loaf for dinner when my mom had talked all afternoon about having a taste for spaghetti and had even gone to the store and bought the ingredients for it. But in the end, she’d submitted, her desires taking second place to his. Or if it was as huge—as damaging—as demanding she ship me off to my aunt’s house for a month so they could have alone time without her kid underfoot. She’d done that only once. And it’d been only a few days before she’d come and picked me up and kicked him out. But even at eight, I’d been old enough to understand the asshole move her ex had made. And promised I’d never place a girl—and later, a woman—in that position. Never bend her will to mine.
God, I pray I didn’t do that to Miriam.
The shame over possibly being that man eats at me like acid.
For every second she remains silent, that guilt becomes more corrosive, burrowing deeper.
“Would going out on a date with Daniel have been an idea I came up with on my own? No. Would I have done it if you hadn’t asked? Probably not. I honestly can’t say for certain. When I met him, there was a ... maturity about him that was different from your other teammates. And a calmness. Then discovering he was a widower? In retrospect, I might’ve just because of that last fact alone because of Renae and knowing the hell she’s gone through. And seeing that he’s being brave enough to take this step back into what has to be the most difficult arena of his life after losing his partner, his wife?” She shakes her head. “Certainly you had influence, but I can’t say for certain if that influence was enough.”
She lifts a hand, and it hovers between us. My heart kicks at my sternum during that hesitation, like SWAT ramming in a door. As if she makes a decision, she grasps a few loose strands of hair that escaped the band at the back of my head. She twists them around her finger,seemingly engrossed in the action. It’s a gentle grip, barely a tug on my scalp, and yet I’m captivated, trapped. Because not only is she touching me, but she’swillinglytouching me. If she resented me, she wouldn’t be anywhere near me.
The knowledge slams into me, followed by a nearly crushing relief. For the second time in just minutes, I’m thankful to be sitting because my legs wouldn’t be able to support me. Why hadn’t I realized that the moment she showed up on my doorstep?
There’s nothing fake about Miriam. The only games she plays are the ones we just enjoyed this evening. It’s one of the reasons I trust her, so willingly and easily invited her into my small inner circle. That never happens with me.
And I’ve come to find out that doesn’t happen with her either.
“We may not have been friends as long as you and Cyrus or Daniel,” she murmurs, “but I think you know me well enough to understand who I am. And you can’t force me to do anything I don’t want to, Jordan. And we’re friends; I care for you. A lot. Because of that, what concerns you concerns me. That carries weight with me. But that said, I’ve had my voice stolen before. And I’ll never go back to that period in my life. Not even for you.” She releases my hair, and it requires every bit of restraint I’ve learned on and off the court to not grab her hand and wrap her fingers back around those strands. Order her to reclaim them. Reclaim me. Just for a little while. “So no, Jordan, you can lay that particular worry to rest if that’s what has been bothering you. We’re good.”
“Thank you.” This time I don’t try and clear the rasp from my voice.
“You’re welcome.”
The low drone of the television provides a muted soundtrack for the thick silence that falls between us.Don’t ask it, an insistent, fuckingwisevoice advises in my head. So of course I don’t listen.
Because I’m a goddamn glutton for punishment.
“Did he call you?”
No need to clarify thehe. We both know who I’m referring to.
She nods, her gaze locked with mine, so I don’t miss the elusive emotion that flares in her eyes. It’s there and gone before I can decipher it, and I’m 2.5 seconds from opening up a question-and-answer period about its origin. But apparently, I do have some restraint left.
Or self-preservation.
“He did. Yesterday.”
“And he asked you out?”
