Page 56 of Song Bird Hearts

His expression pinches with pain. “Lovin’ me is gonna haunt you for a lifetime.”

“Yeah, well. . .” I say, stubbornly raising my chin. “Seems like a lifetime may be real short anyways. So big deal.”

“I don’t?—”

“If you don’t feel the same, just say that,” I growl. “If this is me readin’ into things, then tell me.” I straighten. “If you weren’t singin’ that song to me, then tell me I’m wrong. Tell me I’m still just a paycheck, Knox Holloway, and I’ll leave it alone.” I take a deep breath. “I’ll drop it and never bring it up again.”

He hesitates and I can see him weighing his options. “My feelings don’t matter.”

“To me, they do,” I say, watching him carefully.

He steps back, his eyes taking in my face and the angry tears trailing down my cheeks. He starts to shake his head, and I know I’ve lost him. I know he’s going to lie and tell me I’m just a paycheck and I’ll honor my word. I’ll walk away from this man and pretend I don’t ache when he’s in the room. I’ll pretend my eyes don’t follow him when he walks by.

“If you hate me, just say that,” I whisper. “I’ll understand.”

He pauses, his eyes taking in my expression. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

He grits his teeth. “I don’t hate you, Trouble.” He shoves a hand through his hair. “I can’t.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” I grumble, crossing my arms and looking away.

“No. No!” he growls. “Don’t do that. You know I don’t hate you.”

“Do I?” I ask.

“My breath stops when you walk into a room. When you smile, I lose all train of thought. I twist like a fucking sunflower at the sound of your voice!” He takes a step toward me again and my eyes lock on his. “I don’t hate you. I fucking love you, and I hate myself for it!” His words choke off. “I ain’t the right choice, Val. Those other two, they’ll take real good care of you. But me, I’ll strangle you in the middle of the night when I wake up from a nightmare, reliving the glory days of war. I’ll be angry and jaded, and I won’t tell you why. I might punch a hole in the wall and wish it was some asshole instead. You belong in the spotlight, where everyone can see. I’m stuck in the shadows.”

I blink rapidly. “Then why not let a little light in?”

He swallows thickly. “Because I’m scared,” he admits. “Of what it would mean for me. Of what it would mean for you.”

We stare at each other. “So you do love me?” I clarify.

“Unfortunately,” he grunts.

“Then I need you to kiss me,” I say. “Or else I might lose my mind from this tension.”

“I shouldn’t?—”

“I could die tomorrow,” I remind him.

“That’s not fair to hold over me.”

“You wanna die with regrets?” I demand. “’Cause I sure don’t.”

“Goddamn it, Trouble!” he snarls and then his arm snaps out and wraps around my wrist. “You’re gonna regret this more.”

Our mouths crash together, brutal and wild. There’s no finesse, just need, sharp and bloody. I shove him back against the wall and drag his shirt over his head, desperate to feel his skin against mine. His chest is covered with a light smattering of hair that trails down his abs and tattoos I’d be eager to explore if we weren’t so frantic. I run my hands through it, tracing the tattoos etched into his skin that speak of his time in the military and other moments of his life I don’t even know. Among the tattoos and larger scars, small white marks mar his collarbone, perfectly straight, perfectly in line. My fingers dance over them before he rips my hand away.

He kicks the door shut as his hands reach for my thighs. He lifts be up and presses me back against the dresser like it’s the only think keeping us upright.

“Tell me to stop,” he growls against my lips.

“Don’t you dare,” I hiss.

I pull his belt free and throw it across the room. His knife glints where it sits clipped into his pocket, the small pocketknife drawing my attention as it catches the light. My eyes flick from it to the small scars on his skin, all perfect, all pristine.

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