I take a sip, letting the 7% ABV wash over my nerves before engaging in battle. “I did it to keep you safe.”
“That’s whyIwanted the apartment. To keepmyselfsafe. Because—and I’ll say this nice and slow since it might be aforeign concept for you—” She leans in, leveling me with a withering glare. “I can take care of myself.”
I make the wise decision to keep my mouth shut as I step around her and plop down on the couch. I take a second pull from my beer, cross my ankles on the coffee table, and turn the game on.
She slides between me and the television, her body silhouetted against the glowing screen, blocking The Stars game. “Why couldn’t you just stay out of it?”
“Tell me his name.”
“No!”
“That’s why I can’t stay out of it.”
“Owen!”
“Callie,” I deadpan back to her. “You and my sister keep your secrets. You let dangerous assholes walk around the world with all the information they need to make your lives hell, but you won’t give me what I need to ensure they can’t. So, I have to take matters into my own hands.”
“You literally don’t need to take anything into your hands. I don’t need your protection!” She enunciates every word, sending them across the room like bullets.
It makes me want to take her into my hands.
The woman is frustrating as all get out, but she looks good when she’s mad at me.
“‘You can’t protect her forever.’” I recite the letter from memory.“Is that note as burned into your memory as it is mine? Because I wake up in a cold sweat thinking about it, Cal. I can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.”
“You can pretend to be my boyfriend and sign a lease for me, but you can’t pretend to be my neighbor, who isn’t actually my boyfriend at all, and—oh, wait, no pretending required! You aren’t my boyfriend and you don’t need to do a damn thing to take care of me.” She’s reaching dog whistle levels of anger, but I feel every single word. “You’re real picky and choosy with what you can and can’t pretend.”
I shift on the couch so I can see around her. “Are you done yet?”
Callie grabs the remote before I can swipe it away from her and turns off the game.
I am not amused. “Give. Me. The. Remote.”
“Give me the keys.” She holds out her hand.
“No.”
She glares.
I glare back.
Then she shrugs. “Fine.”
With that, she marches over to the balcony door.
“What are you—Callie, don’t you dare!” I leap off the couch, stopping just inside the door while she holds the remote over the edge.
It’s a hostage situation.
“Woman, I swear to fucking God…”
“Give me the keys.”
“Give me the remote first.”
She laughs. “Do you think I’m stupid?”
I narrow my eyes. “Same question.”