Page 36 of Defended By Love

“Because you lied!” I explode. “You lied about everything! I know for a fact that you don’t live in that apartment. You work for Zagreus Hart and probably are him. I don’t think you being here is as much as a coincidence as you played it off to be. The only truth here is that I know nothing about you. I may want you, but I don’t trust you.”

I’ve taken down corporations with meticulous facts and a biting tongue. I’ve pulled out the bottom ace on houses of cards. I’ve had grown men weep on the witness stand as they realized it was over. Every single one of those verbal victories left me flush with pride.

Here and now, the subtle flinch from him devastates me.

“You’re right,” he says finally. His voice breaks as does my heart. Even though there’s nothing more that I love than being right, I really didn’t want to be.

“But not about everything,” he adds several limping heartbeats later.

“What am I not right about?”

He shakes his head. “Not here.”

Despite myself, I crack the beginning of a smirk. “Always with the secondary location…” I mutter.

His mouth forms a sad imitation of a heartbroken smile. “Promise not to chop you into bits until after we talk it out.”

If this were any other time, I’d storm away. I’d slap him with a protection order so fast his head would spin. I’d bare my teeth at him through a fierce red lipstick and sling litigation at him until it buried him out of my life for good.

Except we’re in this fucking time loop.

And, you know, floating 30-40 stories in the air.

Besides, unless I want to live my life in terrifying chunks of twenty minutes, I’m stuck with him. The fact of the matter is that I can’t get out of the building in time. Even if I were to run down the stairs perfectly, which is a stretch in itself, I wouldn’t be able to get out and out of the fall radius in time. If I can even get out. There was all that fumigation equipment stacked perilously by the door. There’s a good chance I’d be blocked in even if I made it to the ground level. It’s a terrifying thought that I push away lest it paralyze me completely, but I’m stuck in a time loop. One that becomes even shorter unless I find a way to play nice with my possible nemesis.

This is it. The circle of my reach doesn’t get any bigger. It can only get smaller. Terrifyingly smaller.

There’s no point in playing out a long-term strategy if tomorrow continues to dance just beyond my reach.

“Fine,” I seethe. “But if you do chop me up into bits, I’m going to find the nearest letter opener tomorrow and stab you when you save me.”

He nods.

“In fact, I might just do that anyways for all the lies.”

He nods again. “Whatever you want.”

It’s a casual line that’s usually thrown around without a thought as to what it means. Not from him. I have no doubt that he truly does mean whatever I want. The way he cradles me against his body as we fly, away from the ocean this time, tells me that he really would let me stab him or any other punishment I could dream up.

His heart plods steadily on in my ears as I consider that.

If he’s less nefarious than previously thought, then why all the lies?

Not that I suddenly believe him to be good. He admitted to lying. I know he’s been hiding things. It’s just that my head and heart are warring as they scream at me what to think of him. And every second that I spend in his arms knowing that he’d never let me drop, my heart screams louder and louder that he’s good.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

I had kind of assumed that he’d be taking me to my apartment, but we’re not even remotely going in that direction.

He sighs a defeated sigh. “To my place. My real place.” He pauses. “We’re just going to have to be quiet so that we don’t wake my mom up.”

Chapter 20

The last time I did this day, it ended with me getting crushed to death. This time, I’m walking through a doily-covered living room in the dark to what I’m assured is a mostly separate basement suite with a thirty-something-year-old guy in a spandex suit. For this being the same fucking day, it never ceases to surprise me.

“We could go to my pla—” I start to say.

Grant holds a finger to his lips. “My mom’s a really light sleeper,” he mouths/barely whispers.

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