Page 26 of Lost Kingdom

“I turned up at family dinner and introduced myself as her fiancé.”

“Oh, well…” He drops his head and chuckles. “That’ll do it. She might look like a Care Bear, but beneath the shine, she’s actually Five Nights at Freddy’s. It’s cute till it’s not. You get me?”

“Shut up.” I press my palm to his face and push him back, then I start forward and snatch up Aubree’s wine when she’s only one sip in. “Let’s go.”

“You just can’t take a hint, can you?” She sets her elbows on the bar and leans across the wooden top to snag the bottle Daisy didn’t put away. “It’s insane how little stock this dude puts into consent. Ironic, considering his stance on the Tim who came before him.”

“Aubs…” Archer frowns. “Cool it.”

“No! I won’t cool it. How about he?—”

I sweep her up and toss her over my shoulder. I know her stomach is crushed because of my movement, and I know the wine in her belly races toward her throat. But I turn away from the bar and circle around to move through the door. The bottle of wine falls and spins on the floor, clattering and spilling. And Minka Mayet weighs her options:at what point should she step in and lay waste to the Malone men simply for existing?

“Put me down!” Aubree pounds her fists against my back and kicks her feet out, making it all the more difficult to turn onto the narrow set of stairs that lead up to my apartment. “You can’t keep doing this, Tim!”

“Yes. I can.” I set my hand on her ass and try my hardest not tofeel. Because fuck her, I do believe in consent. Just not when I think I’m right and she’s wrong. “Until you get off your high horse and stop acting like I’m the fuckin’ villain in your life, I’m gonna keep putting you where I need you. For your own safety.”

“Stop micromanaging me! I have no safety concerns exceptyou!”

I come to a stop at the top of the stairs, dragging her off my shoulder and blocking the way down, so when she’s on her own two feet again, all she can do is look up and see me. My eyes. My love.

“Tim…”

“I know you don’t like me very much these days. And I know just about every fucking thing I do pisses you off. But beneath all the annoyance and shouting and disagreements, I need you to know the things I do are for you.”

“So carrying me up here?” She hardens her jaw, challenging me with a stare. “Bringing me to your apartment…again. When I was perfectly happy sitting downstairs with my friends?”

“You were being belligerent.”

“Oh, bullshit! I was sitting. I was drinking.”

“You were chugging from a wine bottle after already downing two others at your mother’s dining table.”

“So now you’re counting my drinks?” She growls. “You’re not my keeper. You’re not my parent. You’re not even my boyfriend.”

“I’m so much fucking more than you know. But now your night is over. It’s nearly eleven, you have work tomorrow, it’s late, and I’m not leaving you down there to drink until you puke. You’re loud right now because you’re halfway drunk. But when you sober up, you might be able to see things from my perspective.”

“Unlikely. And I’m not sleeping here. I want to go home.”

“You can’t go home alone. It’s not safe.”

“Says you! Believe it or not, my apartment is actually entirely secure. No one has tried to shoot me there. No one has attempted to kidnap me. No one even steals my food if it’s delivered and I’m still in the shower.”

“Aubree—”

“Just because your life is bullets and death and scary people, doesn’t mean mine is! You’re projecting all yourMalone dramaonto me, and in your attempt to shield me, you actually annoy the ever-loving crap out of me. It’s having the opposite effect you’re hoping for.”

“I’d rather you were alive and angry, than dead and buried under a fucking stone.” I reach past her and open my apartment door, shoving it wide and pressing my hand to her chest. Her chin drops immediately, her eyes clinging to my actions. Then I walk her back, controlling her direction with the tips of my fingers on her throat. “I know what I did at your parents’ house upset you.” I steer her through my living room, past the TV with the remote still glued to the screen, then past Capone, who nestles on the couch and merely watches us. I keep going until we’re in the hall and moving toward my room. “I know you’re pissed at me. And I know that’s probably an emotion you’ll feel for the rest of your life. Because I’m a prick and you’re perfect.” I push her through my door and all the way to my bed until the backs of her legs hit my mattress. Then she collapses, plopping onto her backside and staring up at me like I’m everything and nothing. “We don’t fit. And that fucking sucks. Because it means we’ll fight every day.”

Her eyes glisten with emotion. “Tim…”

“But I’d rather fight with you than not know you at all.”

“I can’t stay here tonight,” she whimpers. “I need to go home.”

“You can stay. And you will.” I release her, but only to turn to the drawers on the other side of my room and pick up a book I bought just a few days ago. Turning again, I toss it to the bed so it lands with athwump. “Keep reading to me.”

Softened, she picks up the second installment in a series she started here months ago. Similar circumstances, where I carried her upstairs and put her somewhereIwanted her to be, instead of letting her go home, which is whereshewanted to be. Our fight turned to quiet acceptance, and that quiet acceptance turned to scouring her purse for something to do. She found the book she’d been reading, and that… was the start of a new tradition.

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