Page 92 of Riot Act
“What? What do you mean, fuck that?”
“I’m not some neanderthal jock who thinks girls are weak. You guys literally push ten-pound babies out of your vaginas. Feed me another line. A missed breakfast isn’t going to make you pass out.”
“Pax! I really don’t want to do this with you right now.”
He sets his jaw. “What was he so worried about in there? Why was he talking about you calling the cops? And evidence? And what agreement?”
Christ, I was really hoping he hadn’t paid attention to any of that. Exhaustion sweeps over me as I move again, heading for the exit. “It’s really nothing for you to worry about, okay. I don’t want to talk about it. I just…” The sun beats down on me when I step outside, but the heat doesn’t penetrate my skin. Inside, I’m frozen, my insides choked with ice. I feel like, if I try and breathe too deep, all of my vital organs are going to fracture.
Pax hurries ahead of me, turning to face me at the top of the steps, blocking my way. “Where are you going? You forget you live here or something?”
“Pax.” I skirt around him, jogging down the steps.
“You’re running back to your dad’s place, then? Where that asshole is probably waiting for you?”
Oh, God. He’s right. Jonah probably is at Dad’s place. I swallow thickly. “I’m hungry. I already told you. I didn’t eat this morning. I’m going to the diner.”
He moves in front of me, blocking my way again. “No, you’re fucking not.”
My panic mixes with anger, combining to create a volatile cocktail of emotion in my bloodstream. “Were you full of shit back there? Because I swear I just heard you saying that girls don’t like it when they’re forced to do things against their will. And now you’re here, telling me what I am and am not going to do. It’s the same fucking thing.” I feel sick as I say it. This is not the same thing Jonah was trying to do to me, has done to me in the past. It’s not even close. I’m ready to say anything to get out of here, though.
Pax flares his nostrils angrily, looking away. He’s so fucking tense. I can tell he wants to argue with me. He’s fighting with himself, trying not to say something that will make this even worse, and it’s costing him big. He looks down at his feet for a second, blowing out a long, unhappy breath. “Come with me to the house. I’ll get you something to eat.”
“No, Pax. I’m not doing that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re gonna poke and poke at this until I give you the answers you want, and I can’t deal with that right now.”
He runs his tongue over his teeth, considering. A frown forms on his face.
“Come to the house. I’ll make sure you eat. I will not ask you a single question.”
Is he being serious? I don’t know if I can believe that. “You promise?”
He looks right into my soul when his eyes meet mine. So intense. This kind of eye contact is terrifying with him. He places his hand on his chest, directly in the center, right over his heart, and I don’t even need to hear him say the words.
I sigh, giving in. It’s all I can do. “All right, then. Let’s go.”
Watching Pax try to navigate a kitchen is interesting. He’s so sure of himself, and confident in everything that he does. Turns out that’s because he only usually does things he can dowell. Put him in an unfamiliar situation and things are a little different. He curses as he yanks open all of the kitchen cupboards.A lot.
Eggs.
Cheese.
Salsa.
Milk.
Avocado.
The items all get slammed down on the marble counter with unbridled aggression. Pax’s mood is black to say the least, but he keeps his promise. He doesn’t ask a single question.
He grabs a bag of tater tots out of the freezer, dumps them onto a baking tray, then hurls the tray into the oven.
“I think…you need to turn it on,” I offer.
“I know what the fuck I’m doing,” he snaps.Thenhe turns the oven on to three-seventy-five, grumbling angrily. Taking a glass bowl out of a cupboard, he cracks an unholy amount of eggs into it, adds a bunch of milk, a slab of butter, and whisks the living shit out the mixture with a fork, glowing with rage. Once he’s done with that, he adds a heap of salt, some pepper and starts whisking all over again.
