Page 87 of Pulse
The unknowing hurts. A lot. Because all I want to do is be his partner, but that requires knowing the other person intimately. And, obviously, I don’t.
I close my eyes, resting my head against the back of the sofa and wish this mess was over.
But somehow, I got to keep him.
“Hey.”
My head snaps up and my heart springs to life. The sight of him leaning against the doorjamb, hands in his pockets—his eyes sad and weary—shatters my heart.
“Hey,” I say carefully, setting the book on the end table. “I was going to find you, but I thought maybe you needed some time to cool off.”
“I yelled at you.”
It’s a simple sentence that’s anything but that. It’s a confession of his worst fears, an admission of wrongdoing—it’s a forlorn acknowledgment that he’s accepted defeat. All I can think about is the comparison he must be making between himself and his father … because he was upset.
Oh, Troy.
“You didn’t yell at me,” I say softly. “We were having a heated,seriousconversation. It’s okay.”
“I don’t want to yell at you. I don’t want it to be like that.”
I gulp back a wave of emotions and pull my blanket back. “Come here. Please.”
He trudges across the room and sits beside me, so I crawl into his lap. His shoulders slump as he wraps his arms around me and holds me tightly, burying his face in my hair.
“Do you know how I know it’ll never be like that?” I ask.
“How?”
“Because it kills you to think you hurt me. Even though you didn’t. And I know your heart, Troy Lucas Castelli, and you wouldn’t hurt me. You’d die first.”
He sighs, planting kisses to the top of my head. “I’m sorry, Doll.”
“For what? For being upset that I did something stupid? No.I’m sorry. I let my fear and emotions get the best of me and that was irresponsible.”
“All I could think about when I saw you on your phone was someone on their way to hurt you. And I just … dammit, Dahlia. I can’t even think about it.”
“And I can’t think about anything happening to you, and to know I was so selfish today just …”
My lips tremble as I struggle against the tears.
He blows out a long, tired breath.
“I just want to protect you and make you happy,” he says. “And I worry I can’t do that. I worry I can’t keep you safe and you’ll see that I’m a fraud.”
“What?” I pull away from him so I can see his face. “I’m the safest when I’m with you. I’m the happiest when we’re together. Don’t you understand that? These past few days have been stressful, sure, but I’ve smiled more, laughed more … felt taken care of in a way I never have before.And that’s because of you.”
His eyes fill with relief, and he settles back against the couch. “Are relationships always this stressful?” He chuckles. “I’ve never thought much about it. I’ve never been interested in it. But now I realize that it hurts me more when you’re upset than it does when I’m upset. And, when you think about it like that, why do people do this?”
“What are you saying? That you don’t want to do this?”
He laughs, pulling me into him again. “Right.”
We sit quietly for a long time, listening to the storm rage outside. I want to ask him if we have to leave now that I’ve screwed up—but I don’t. Because the thought of leaving our little cocoon is depressing.
Troy must be thinking the same thing because he sighs.
“I told Ford what happened today,” he says. “I’m waiting to hear what he wants to do.”
