Page 49 of Love Undercover
She pursed her lips, dubious.
He shook his head and figured he might as well call it quits. And be honest with her. He began to unwrap his hands, wincing as the cloth caught and pulled at the torn skin on his knuckles. The pain kept the anger in check. It was subdued, a cowed beast, though he knew from experience that it was never gone.
That was his father’s other legacy. An ever-present red dragon that lived inside of him, big and scary and dangerous. He’d trained it, channeled it, learned how to control it. But it never went away. Just another reason the direction his thoughts kept going was a bad one. He’d never made a good boyfriend. He shook his head again, feeling the warmth of her gaze on him.
“I’m fine now,” he amended.
“But you weren’t before.”
Not a question.
He inhaled deeply through his nose, stuffing the wraps into his back pocket so he could wash the blood from them. Though he probably wouldn’t get the chance; he had a lot of details to work out between now and sundown.
She was there in front of him before he even realized it, reaching for his hands to inspect the cuts. They didn’t look too bad, but she’d obviously caught his grimace.
“You going to put arnica on them?” he asked with a smirk.
She shot him a lighthearted glare. “Not on open cuts. I do have something else, though.”
He huffed a laugh. “Of course you do.”
“Hey, you admitted that the arnica worked,” she accused. The words were playful, but they still had an impact.
“I trust you,” he murmured, no strength in him to pretend otherwise.
Her intake of breath was audible, and his stomach clenched again. Their eyes locked. That impact again—jarring.
“I was angry,” he admitted.
She released his hand, and he immediately missed the feel of her skin against his. It had soothed, and now the sting of the cuts screamed louder than they had before her touch.
“About the sleazeball.”
She didn’t look surprised by the admission, though he caught the faintest flinch, and he regretted bringing it up. It renewed the sense of urgency for getting them somewhere new. But this first.
“I have an anger problem.”
She tipped her head to the side. “Doesn’t seem like a problem if you know how to manage it.”
He kept his expression blank even as something stirred inside of him. “Who says I know how to manage it?”
Those lips parted for the ghost of a smile. “You didn’t go on some rampage. You channeled it into something productive. That’s a lot of what we work on in my classroom. Emotional regulation.”
He squinted at her. “You’re comparing me to five-year-olds?”
She laughed then, the sound dancing through him. “Age doesn’t matter. It’s just easier to learn the skills when you’re younger. Everyone needs emotional regulation. Anyone ever tell you, Chase, that anger is okay? You’re allowed to be mad. It’s what you do with it that matters.”
It was so simple, and knowing it was probably something she said to kindergartners on a regular basis made it more ridiculous that he reacted to the validation, but he did. It was like a shot of warmth to his heart, and he had to turn away, his eyes finding the shape of his car in the recesses of the other side of the garage.
And it was weird too, because it made the remaining energy dissipate, the dragon curling up and going to sleep, giving him one of the rare reprieves from the constant burn.
How was that even possible?
19
Catch and Release
When they got back inside, Chase was eerily quiet. The constant buzz of tension he always held was muted, and his movements were more fluid than usual. It was odd that she’d picked up on those things without realizing it. It was only clear to her now that it had changed.
