Page 20 of Rescuing Josiah
So far, she hadn't answered his roared questions, just stared at him with her terror-filled eyes as the seconds ticked by.
From the phone he’d torn from her hand, he could hear his mother’s voice calling his name. There was everything in her tone from desperation, to worry, to fear, and he realized he was simultaneously scaring the two women in the world who meant the most to him.
Disconnecting the call solved one of his problems, but not the other. Chelsea still stood there as though she was frozen inshock, and he hated that she was afraid of him. Again. For the second time today.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“You should be,” he growled. “What gave you the impression it would be okay to touch my phone?”
“Thought it might be someone from Prey.”
“My mother’s number is saved in there. Her name would have been on the screen. You knew it wasn't someone from Prey,” he snarled.
A fine tremor shuddered through her body, and he was struck by how much smaller she was than him. He had over a foot in height and probably a hundred pounds on her. Plus, he was acting unhinged, no wonder she was afraid of him.
“I didn't think you would be upset about a call from your mother.” Despite her obvious fear, she met his gaze when she spoke.
Quickly, Josiah spun around.
The last thing he wanted was to see the terror in her big gray eyes.
Or pity.
Because now she knew.
For six years, he had kept from everybody around him that he was paranoid about taking a bullet. That he couldn’t even stomach the idea of taking off this vest, much less actually go about doing it. Since he didn't let anyone get close to him, it hadn't been hard to keep it secret, and that Chelsea might have found out while they were living together had never occurred to him.
Why would it?
They weren't here to have sex or strip for each other. They were here to do a job, and there was no reason for her to have stepped into his bathroom today.
She didn't.
Not really.
The door was mostly closed.
The only reason she saw you was because you got angry and showed your hand.
The voice whispered insidiously in the back of his mind, and Josiah dragged his fingers through his hair, tugging hard enough to make his scalp sting.
Good.
He needed the pain.
Something he could control, unlike the mess unraveling around him.
“Get out,” he ordered as the phone, still clutched much too tightly in his hand, began to ring. His mom. He knew that without even having to look. Now that she’d heard his voice, she wasn't going to give up on trying to get through to him.
His heart ached.
Physically ached.
There was nothing more in the world that he would love than to be four years old again, crawling into his mother’s arms and knowing he was safe, that the big, bad world couldn’t touch him there, and letting her hugs and kisses soothe whatever pain or fear he was suffering.
But he wasn't a four-year-old child any longer. He was a fully grown adult and one who knew that nothing in the world could fix what had happened to his team. No amount of mother’s kisses could bring back men from the dead, or rewrite history. And that was the only thing he needed.
“Josiah—” Chelsea’s small hand rested on his shoulder, right beside where the vest covered his skin.
