Page 81 of InfraRed

“I can’t let them down,” I tell him. “I haven’t spent any time with my friends in weeks because of rehearsal.”

His forehead drops to mine. His dark lashes kiss his cheeksbefore he lifts them to look at me. “We still need to talk about this. The insecurity. Who thesemean girlsare. All of it.”

“Can we talk tomorrow? Or even tonight when I get back. I think… I think I just need a minute to myself—with my friends. It doesn’t mean I’m avoiding you, but sometimes… Graham, I know how you feel about me. I don’t doubt that. But I feel like you baby me. They won’t. I need that.”

He brushes his hands through his hair. All the anger and frustration have drained. Now he seems anguished. Like the thought of letting me out of his sight causes physical pain.

But eventually, he nods. His lips brush my forehead before he steps back. “I’ll just stay at Dad’s tonight.”

“No!” I reach for him, drawing him back. “I don’t want that. Please. Just give me a few hours. Then I will be back, and we can talk.”

He nods, looking a little sad and maybe even worried. “I’ll be there when you get home.”

“This isn’t me pulling away. This is me being a normal girl. I promise.” I wrap my arms around him, hoping it reassures him. Even if only a little.

Graham

My fingers dig at the knot at my neck, ripping through the Windsor with more force than necessary then throwing it across the room along with my jacket. I scrub my hands over my face, ripping them through my hair before shoving them in my pockets and rocking back on my heels. My head falls back as I stare at the ceiling, wondering how badly I fucked up.

I knew—fuckingknew—not to go to that studio. My head was a goddamn train wreck before I ever sat behind the wheel of the car, but after what I’d just heard, I needed to see her. To put my eyes on her and know she was okay.

The impromptu meeting I had today threw me off. The moment the unexpected name flashed across my phone, my stomach became a thrill ride of the worst kind.

I cross the room to the bottle of scotch sitting on the counter. I’m half tempted to just drink from the bottle, but that’s the last thing I need right now.Because why not add to the building worry festering in my gut?Of course, the alcohol won’t help with the twisting. Maybe I need antacids instead.

I pour a few fingers into a glass and add more ice than necessary before I go toward the bedroom. When I reach the door, my feet won’t move. I don’t want to go in there if she’s not here. The idea depresses me.

A heavy sigh slips past my lips as I turn around, going back to the living room. Leaving the room dark because I want towallow in my self-imposed misery, I sit in the white armchair—I wonder which of these two girls thought white furniture was a good idea? I take a sip of my drink, then rest the glass against my aching fucking balls because they’ve been blue since the goddamn dance studio.

My dick doesn’t even react to the cold. Or not the way I want. “You need to fucking chill.” I order it to go down. He twitches, laughing at my absurd request because he’s ready to go every time I think of her. The urge—the need to bend her to my will was overwhelming, clouding my judgment, and causing me to overreact. My dick was a steel pipe begging me to bend her over and fuck the fight right out of her.Fucking traitor.

He didn’t get the message. I don’t want her fight gone. It may only come out with me, but it comes out strong. She stands up for herself with me, and even though at that moment it drove me nuts, it also made me proud.

But if I’m not careful, I’m going to cross a line I can’t return from. I can’t tell her she has all the power one minute and strip it from her the next. I can’t demand she stand her ground with others but bow to me—well, I can, but I have to tread cautiously. I don’t want to break her, and I don’t want her scarred. Not by me.

But fuck, when she pulled away from me, not allowing me to touch her—comfort her—it was a dagger straight to my heart. And all I could think about was showing her who she belonged to.

My cock pulses in agreement. I set the glass of scotch on the table, and I grab my dick, squeezing tightly. “You need to learn time and place mother fucker.”

When she told me she wasn’t coming home with me, but going out with her friends instead, my heart became a stampede. Itwas a combination of panic and fear. I didn’t want to let her out of my sight, and I was irrationally terrified I’d scared her away. As much as I want her happy, I’m not sure I could ever let her go, even if it’s what she wanted. I don’t know what’s worse, the thought of scaring her so badly she runs or the thought of not caring that she’s terrified and keeping her at any cost.

That’s why I argued for a brief moment, but I could see in her eyes that she needed a minute to breathe. Then I worried I was suffocating her. Am I too much? Because fuck I know how I feel is too much. I feel insane and unhinged. This can’t be fucking healthy, but what the fuck do I do? Give her space? Create distance between us? That sounds as fun as a fucking lobotomy, which is probably what it would take to get me to chill the fuck out.

I drag the cold glass across my forehead, trying to cool the racing thoughts. She’s not scared, and she will be back. She said so. She even said we’d finish our conversation.

At least she let me drop her off at her girls’ night. She’s at some hole-in-the-wall place in Brooklyn. I walked her inside, unable to let her out of my sight. But then I saw Liam, Henry, and Thad—apparently, he is an honorary girl. It was definitely not some place you would ever catch Krista, so that was a plus.

Leaving her there like I was an outsider looking in stung, but I worried less about her safety knowing she was with people who would watch out for her.

My eyes close, and I replay the day. Specifically, what happened just before I went to her studio, ready to throw her over my shoulder and fucking run.

It took me five minutes to get from my desk to my car after Dominic Lucchese’s name flashed across my screen. I made the drive from the office to Hell’s Kitchen in record-breaking time.

I was already at a booth in the tucked-away restaurant when he walked in the door. Dominic looked much like his younger brother, but in place of Will’s mask of humor were eyes of steel. Eyes of a man who carried the weight of responsibility. I understood the look well.

“I got a phone call from a mutual friend,” he told me after he sat across from me and placed his order.

“I would hardly call him mutual considering I’ve never met him,” I replied as I sipped my scotch. “I won’t deny my surprise at your call or request for this meeting. Especially since I asked your brother to reach out to you and he refused.”

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