Page 177 of Somebody's Watching Me
“I haven’t told him.” Gnawing on her bottom lip, she winced. “I didn’t tell anyone.”
“Alone?” He forced her to look at him. “You’re telling me you’ve been going through this alone?”
Scrambling to stand, she shouted down at him. “I couldn’t talk about it!”
“That’s no way to handle this.” He bounded off the couch. “Why would you keep this bottled up?”
“Because I was angry at everyone!” she yelled, the jealousy scratching at her once more. “I was angry at the nurses in the hospital for treating me like it was all routine. I was angry at my doctor for telling me the truth. I was angry at my sister, Liam. Irrationally, ridiculously upset because Evie was pregnant, and I wasn’t.” She pressed forward, standing toe totoe with him. “And I was beyond angry at you for getting exactly what you wanted. No kids.”
“Jamison—”
“No!” She knocked his hands aside when he tried to hold her. “I couldn’t be around anyone. I knew what I was feeling was fucked up and selfish, so I locked myself away or else I would explode.”
“And that was your solution on how to deal with what you’d been through?” He stared at her incredulously. “You, of all people, know that’s not how to handle a loss.”
God, she wished he didn’t have so much faith in her. It was exhausting trying to live up to it.
“No, you’re the one that knows how to handle loss,” she snapped, the bitter resentment once again filling her. “I didn’t know how to survive during those first few months, let alone be able to stop and realize my actions could be classified as a psychotic break. And that’s what it was. I know that now, and up until you showed up, guns fucking blazing, I had actually convinced myself the nurse had been right. That some things just weren’t meant to be. That we weren’t meant to be. You didn’t want kids, and I did, so what happened was the universe coming to a draw.”
A disbelieving huff of laughter burst out of him. “I know how to handle loss? Are you fucking kidding? I didn’t know how to handle anything. While you were angry at everyone, I was blaming them.” He let out another laugh, but this time it came off slightly more unhinged. “I quit my career. I stopped talking to my parents. Hell, I even punched your brother.”
Wait, what?
Punched her brother?
Jamison’s lips parted in surprise. “You punched Samuel?”
“Hell, no. I’m not an idiot.” Gathering his composure, he began again. “Selah came out to Texas to check on me after I quit the Bureau, and I punched him.”
Her mouth fell open fully, as did her shirt, exposing her body. Quickly, she yanked it closed. “Why?”
“Because he said something along the lines of how some relationships just aren’t meant to be.” Placing his hands on her waist, he slowly drew her into his space. “I guess you and I both have the same trigger phrase.”
Liam and Samuel were roughly the same size, although her brother had an inch or two on him in height. But Selah was bigger than both and had a powerhouse punch.
“Did he hit you back?” She checked him over for damage as if the altercation had just happened. “Does Samuel know? Does my dad know? Does your dad know? Oh god, does Lenora know?”
Not only was Lenora overprotective of her son, but she was known to go ballistic on anyone who might take advantage of Selah’s kind heart.
“He didn’t hit me back,” Liam replied. “My dad called me an idiot, but I think your dad was impressed?” He shook his head. “So was Simone, actually. It was weird.”
“What about Lenora and Samuel?”
“Lenora thought it was funny, and Samuel tried to give me tips on how to knock Selah out fully if it should happen again.”
She held onto his shoulders. “Abe saw them fight when Selah called Samuel out over his feelings for Evie, and he said it was like watching two bears wrestling.”
“I’d believe it.”
They quieted, not speaking as they clung to one another. Desperate and afraid they would lose their momentum and fall back down into hell again.
After seconds and then minutes passed, his tear-streaked face softened. “Hey,” he whispered at last. “I love you.”
“Hey.” Snotty and absolutely wrecked, she smiled at the playfulness in his tone. “I love you too.”
“Are you going to let me fix this?” His head tilted, lips grazing hers. “Fix us?”
She met him halfway. “Only if you let me help.”
