Page 90 of Lace 'em Up

Pretend that he didn’t protect me…again.

But all that pretending is fucking useless.

Because he did protect me, and my heart—already soft and vulnerable and open to him…

It feels like I’m in danger.

But it’s a danger I yearn for, that I’m desperate for, that I know I’m going to run headfirst into.

“Are you mad?” I whisper.

His head whips to the side, eyes flicking to mine, seeming to see too much in that flash of contact before he turns back to the road. “At you?”

I inhale. Exhale.

Be brave and kind.

“Yes. You’re probably going to get in trouble again and it’s my fault.” I nibble at my bottom lip. “I’ll talk to Jean-Michel. Explain what happened. He’ll?—”

“No.”

I freeze.

His big chest rises and falls on a breath. “No,” he says again. “I’m not mad at you.” He touches my cheek. “Thank you, but I don’t need you to talk to Jean-Michel.”

Maybe he doesn’t need me to.

But I’m going to do it anyway.

He sighs. “You’re going to do it anyway, aren’t you?”

“I have an in with Jean-Michel,” I say. “You know that.”

And I’m not going to let King take the fall for doing something kind (and yes, I consider planting his fist into Pat’s face a kindness.

“Stubborn.”

I settle my hand on his thigh. “Prickly, remember?”

Which, thankfully, makes him smile.

At least for a second.

Because then it fades again and I realize that there’s something else at play here.

Something I missed.

“So,” I whisper, squeezing the firmly muscled leg. “Who are you mad at?” A beat. “Besides Pat?”

His gaze flicks to mine then back to the road, and for a second, I think he’s not going to answer me. “Yeah, I hate that fucker,” he mutters. “But—” Another breath. “I hate more that he scared you and I wasn’t there to protect you. I’m never fucking there at the right time—” His teeth click together and he shakes his head, cutting off the flow of words.

“I—”

Frankly, that’s not something I ever expected him to say—how can he think that when he’s come to my rescue time and again?

It doesn’t make sense and I want to press him to explain, but one look at the set of his jaw and I know this isn’t the time. Instead, I stick with the facts. “You were there. You stopped him.”

A shake of his head. “He had you cornered, princess. If I hadn’t walked out of the locker room when I did…”

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