Page 50 of Rescuing Josiah
Confirming that everything was clear, he quickly stepped into the hall, bringing Chelsea with him, then locked the office door from the inside and pulled it closed.
It shut with a clunk that was much too loud for his liking, so he started moving quickly back the way they’d come, heading for their room. Once he got there, he was going to leave Chelsea and head to the gym. He needed to blow off this anger before he did or said something he’d regret.
With each silent step he took, his anger grew.
Raging inside him like a wounded bull.
Seemingly sensing his fury, Chelsea didn't speak a word, just hurried to keep up with his much longer strides.
When they finally reached their room, he stepped inside with her then gestured at the bed. “Get some sleep.”
“Wait, where are you going?” she demanded, with no self-preservation whatsoever. Did she not remember how he’d put his hands around her throat the other night? The lingering red marks were a constant reminder that he was a physical danger to this woman, who was too sweet for her own good.
“Gym.”
“You mean you're running away again, hiding.”
Yep, Chelsea didn't have a shred of self-preservation hiding beneath all that creamy soft skin. How could someone be so smart and yet so dense, all at the same time? He’d told her he would protect her, that nothing would happen to her, and yet he’d let his desire to make her happy cloud his judgment.
He was as angry with himself as he was with her.
“Go to bed, Chelsea,” he ground out.
“No. Not unless you come with me.” The damn woman actually jutted out her chin, daring him to disagree, and planted her hands on her hips. It would be a whole lot easier to maintain his level of terrified rage if she didn't look so adorably sexy.
“Go to bed,” he ordered again. If she kept pushing, then the tight control he had on his emotions was going to snap.
“Talk to me, I'm right here. I know we almost got caught, but we didn't. Everything worked out okay.”
Her cavalier attitude to her own safety, her own life, was the final straw. All that rage he’d been holding back, not just since they left Dr. Gant’s office a couple of minutes ago, but every drop of anger that had bubbled and boiled inside him for six years, suddenly exploded out.
Grabbing her shoulders, he backed her up until she was pressed against the closest wall. “You could have been killed,” he snarled. “Do you know what that would do to me? Do you understand that? Do you really think I don’t fight my feelings for you every single second of every single day? I can't let anyone get close to me, Chelsea, don’t you understand that?”
Somehow recognizing he was gripping her too tightly, he abruptly released his hold on Chelsea’s shoulders and stormed across the room. He couldn’t be that close to her and not touch her, and dragging her into his arms and kissing her senseless would be a stupid thing to do when the walls he’d built around himself were wobbling precariously.
“I should have died. I wanted to die. My place was with my team. I never should have walked away alive that day. But I did. I’ve done everything I can for the last six years to try to honor their memories, to do something that would give meaning to what we were all trying to do. Work. That’s all I want. All I need.”
His fingers dug into his scalp, yanking on his short hair until his skin stung. He needed the pain to feel grounded.
Whether she cared or not, they’d come precariously close to dying tonight.
Okay, maybe those deaths would have taken weeks as they were disassembled piece by piece, and sure, Prey would havearrived to stop that from happening, but it was the principle of the thing.
Losing Chelsea would shatter his last remaining sliver of sanity.
Have him devolving into the angry monster he already feared he was.
Like he wasn't the biggest threat to her in this entire mansion, Chelsea crept toward him. While her eyes were wide, he didn't detect a hint of fear in them, only the usual compassion and love he always saw.
“Stay away from me,” he growled, backing up. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I'm not in control of myself right now.”
“Oh, Josiah, I think for the first time in six years you finallyarein control,” she said softly.
“Ridiculous.” He scoffed. “Don’t you see? I wear this vest. I keep my family locked out of my life. I don’t let myself acknowledge my feelings for you because it’s what I need to do to survive. What I need to do to make sure the anger doesn’t consume me.”
“But it does consume you. The anger and the fear keep you locked in a sort of stasis where you’re unable to move forward. But tonight, you're standing right on that precipice. You can do what you’ve been doing, hiding away, letting the anger and fear control you. Or you can take that very first step and realize I'm right here waiting for you. Your team wouldn't want you to live the rest of your life like this. They’d want you to keep living, to find happiness and joy, that’s what honoring their memory looks like. Not working yourself to death and isolating from everyone.”
While she spoke, Chelsea had continued to take slow steps toward him until now she had him backed up against a wall, his fingers curled into fists hanging at his sides. It was the only way he could stop himself from reaching for her.
