Page 112 of Hell and High Water

Instantly, I see her flinch and hit the ground. Instantly, I’m running across the room, kneeling beside her. “Are you alright?”

My heart is in my throat.

Her shoulders slump slightly as she sighs. “Yes. Just clumsy. And not back to a hundred percent.” She’s aggravated.

“It’s not like you’ve been practicing, either,” I say before I can think it through. Almost instinctively, I pull back as I say it, resisting the urge to touch her, to make sure she’s fine. Then I regret it even more as she stands, narrowing her eyes at me.

She must feel embarrassed. Neglected?

I’m absolutely no good at this.

“See? Pain’s already gone.” She nearly shoves me out of the way on her way out the door.

Immediately, I’m scrambling, pissed at myself for falling into such an obvious trap, as well as pissed that I’m being such a fool, running across the room like a fucking overprotective idiot.

“Good. I’ll get my stuff out of the safe and meet you at the car.”

“Fine. Let’s get this stuff quickly and go. We're supposed to meet the guys soon.” She tries to sound casual, but it’s no use. Her words are clipped. Sharp.

I feel my own anger rising to meet hers, indignation at being shut out. Indignation at my own conflicted emotions.

This is not how it was supposed to go.

I should have expected it, however. This is the first time we’ve been alone together since…

Downstairs, she’s waiting by the car, her things already in the back seat. I can tell she’s fuming, getting more and more agitated the longer I go without saying anything.

Anything I have to say will only make it worse.

“I thought we were going to meet the guys over at the old Henderson’s Grocery parking lot?” She looks over at me after a few blocks, noticing my change of direction.

“Sorry. I need to stop off at my apartment for a change of clothes. Do you mind?”

“Oh, not at all. Just maybe let me know next time.”

“I didn’t think I needed permission to make an extra stop.”

“I’m not saying you need permission. It’s called communication.” She’s being deliberately obtuse, but mention of my apartment has her intrigued, I can tell. “So, your apartment.”

In all the time we’ve known one another, I have never taken her to my place.

“One of my apartments. This is the… main one, I guess you’d say?”

“Why am I not surprised that you have several apartments, none of which I’ve ever seen?”

“You know, you don't have to be condescending about everything,” I growl out between my teeth.

“Says Mr. Condescending himself! When have you not talked down to me?”

“I don't always talk down to you.”

“You’re doing it right now.”

“Hell, can we not do this?”

“Oh, we’re definitely not doing this. Or anything,” she scoffs, crossing her arms, then her legs, and looking out the window.

What. The. Fuck.

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