Page 23 of Torch
“I think he was just unlucky, but this is why he freaked out at you being there. It’s too late for those of us already connected with club members, but I suspect he’s been trying to keep the club unaware of you, to keep you safe. He pushed you away like that, making a show of it, because he wanted them to think you don’t matter to him, when I think it’s probably exactly the opposite. I know he feels for you, any idiot could see that, but I think he hoped they wouldn’t.”
He feels for me? But what does he feel? Interest? Contempt? Lust? Disgust? I had absolutely no idea, and I really needed to.
“I need to talk to him,” I said, sitting up straight again. “I need a proper talk with him, and I need it now.”
Lissa nodded, picking her phone up from the table.
“I’ll message Ice, and get him to bring him here as soon as he can.”
She sent the message, and waited for a response, and while she did, I sat there wondering what the hell I’d say to the one man who seemed to strike me speechless every time I saw him, at least when he wasn’t my patient. How was I supposed to talk with him, when I lost all words the second I was around him?
Thirteen
Icemarcheduptome as I stood outside the clubhouse, cursing my bad luck because now it might curse her too. Why did the prospects even fucking let her in here? Did they not understand their fucking assignment?
“You fucking idiot! Do you really think she deserved that?”
I glanced around us, wondering if anyone was in earshot.
“What else was I supposed to do? I don’t want her getting hurt by this fucker.”
He rolled his eyes, gesturing around us, like I wasn’t completely fucking aware of where we were, and who might be watching or listening.
“I get it, man. Why do you think I made such a big deal of it? I want whoever this fucker is to think she’s a nuisance, and nothing more. It’s how she stays alive, and out of this shit.”
Ice looked about as frustrated as I’d ever seen him. I mean, for a guy who’d spent the last few years hyped up on some junk the whole time, the new sober version of him was definitely crankier than ever. Mind you, he wasn’t getting any sleep before this shit started, so who knew how he was coping now, without drugs, and with more pressure.
“Lissa says she wants to talk to you,” he said suddenly, and I realised he’d pulled out his phone to check something.
“Yeah, not really feeling like a therapy sesh right now, brother, but thanks.”
He slapped the back of my head as I turned away, and Jesus fuck, I almost took him down for that alone. Nobody fucking slaps me like a little bitch.
“I swear to god-”
“Gracewants to see you, dickface. She’s waiting at Lissa’s place. I don’t know what you think, but I personally think she deserves an explanation, and an apology, but hey, do whatever the fuck you want. Just make sure you’re civil to my old lady, or I’ll shove that clenched fist down your throat and give you a fucking sex change.”
I stared at him for a full minute, trying to figure that shit out, finally just shrugging at him, but the bastard had killed my anger, hadn’t he? Probably just like he’d planned too.
“Yeah, I was gonna say I’d pull your dick in from the inside, but yeah, it kinda got away from me. I never said I was good at this crap, but give me a computer, and I can do anything. Now, are you coming over to see your woman, or am I telling her you’re too much of a pussy to face her?”
“You need help. Maybe do some talking to that old lady of yours, see if she can fix all that crazy shit going on in that head of yours, yeah?”
“Fuck you.”
He unlocked the door of the clinic when we arrived and locked up again behind us, then he pointed at Lissa’s office.
“Go on, I’m staying here, and well out of your shit.” Cowardly asshole. I flipped him off as I approached Lissa’s door, and tapped on it. She opened it, and gestured at me to join Grace, before she left the room and pulled the door closed.
One look at Grace had me wracked with guilt, because she was curled up on a sofa, hugging her legs, and her tear streaked face told me just how much I’d hurt her.I fucking hurt her. All I wanted to do was keep her safe, and I fucked it up.
I stared at her for a moment, wanting to approach her, to hold her, to apologise, to beg her for forgiveness, but not even sure if I should touch her. Did I have a right to? Did I have any fucking right to even speak to her?
“Grace,” I hesitated, wishing someone could just fucking tell me the right thing to do here. She chewed on her lip, watching me silently just like she always fucking did these days. What happened to that feisty woman who’d verbally kicked my ass every time I saw her? What had changed so that she’d become so nervy and quiet around me?
“Grace, Ice said you wanted to talk,” I tried, moving over to the sofa and sitting on the edge of it, as far from her as I could, even though I wanted to fucking occupy the same few inches of the seat. She nodded, but didn’t volunteer anything.
“Babe, this means you have to say actual words. I’m not a mindreader, and I know I hurt you earlier, but I swear, it was to keep you safe, I promise.”
