Page 91 of Pulse
I appreciate so many things about this man. But one of the biggest things I love about Troy falls into a category that none of the men I’ve dated before have ever scored in.
Effort.
He’s surprised me with his ability and desire to show up for me—and not just in his protective hero role. I knew he was a loyal, dedicated man. But I can see he’ll show up as my boyfriend, as a man, as a friend. He’ll show up as a person who wants to do more and better—to grow. At the moment, that manifests itself in running the bath a little cooler than he’d like it because it’s my preference or asking why I feel a certain way—not to pick a fight, but because he wants to understand my position. He’s demonstrated it by standing with me when everyone else thought I was wrong, or by apologizing for his part in a disagreement with no reservation.
I smile at him.
“What?” he asks, handing me a bottle of water.
“I was just thinking about how things work out sometimes. One of the worst days of my life turned into the most beautiful thing in my life. It’s funny how that happens.”
“It’s like it’s fate or something.”
“Do you believe in fate?” I ask, my stomach growling.
He takes a deep breath. “I don’t know. I think people like to believe it when it serves them. Take us, for example. I wantto think it’s inevitable that we wound up together. It makes me hopeful that I can’t fuck it up.”
I kiss him quickly.
“What about you?” he asks.
“I didn’t used to.” I walk alongside him upstairs to our bathroom. “I thought that every day you made a series of choices that led you to another series of choices. And your choices were affected by other people’s decisions. Like the world is a huge algorithm. But now? I don’t know. I mean, we fit so well together that it’s hard to imagine now that there was an opportunity ofusnot happening. You feel like the …”
I blush, stopping myself short of finishing the sentence.
“Of what?”
“Nothing.”
“No, of what?” He slips his shirt over his head, distracting me with his wide shoulders and cut abs. He tosses it on the bathroom vanity. “Finish it.”
“You feel like the only thing in my life that was bound to happen. I know that sounds so corny.”
He grins. “Up until a few days ago, I thought my life was a fucked up and pointless series of events. I mean, what on earth could’ve been the purpose of going through some of the shit I have?” He shrugs. “But now, instead of feeling like a path of destruction, my life feels like a lane leading me right here.”
“I’m so glad I give your path some structure.”
He smirks, grabbing his half-hard cock through his sweats. “You give more than my path a little structure, Doll.”
The humid air shifts, and I know where this leads. I start to undress to make the process easier when Troy’s phone rings.
The levity on his face falls. My stomach churns.It’s time.
“Ready for this?” he asks.
I force a swallow and nod because it’s all I can do. I’ve fought thinking about this and now it’s here—Ford’s meeting with my father.
Their conversation will either complicate things or improve them. While being in flux has been nerve-wracking, it’s better than hearing Ford say he still suspects my dad is involved or that he’s angry that we’ve questioned Alexis’s potential role in this mess.
She is his wife, after all.
Troy answers on speakerphone.
“Castelli,” he says, squeezing my shoulder.
“Hey. Is Dahlia there with you?”
“I’m here.”
