Page 77 of The Restoration Program
“Seriously? After everything I’ve done, you really believe that?”
“Maybe,” Nicole said.
He turned his head, his jaw doingthat thingbefore he roared, “FUCK!” and threw his phone across the room. It banged against the dining room door. Nicole flinched so hard, she nearly tipped her chair onto its side.
Her heart was still hammering when Ryan’s attention lowered back to her. She realized she was gripping the sides of her seat with white knuckles and sitting at rigid attention.
“I’m sick of you lashing out at me just because you’re scared,” he hissed. “We dealt with that shit enough beforethe Restoration.”
Behind her, the livestream erupted in cheers and laughter at something Alina said. Neither of them reacted. He was waiting for her response.
Her heart felt like it was going to burst right through her blue sweater. Nicole stood, and on socked feet, she hastened for her staircase.
“I’m getting a drink,” she said.
As she tramped down the stairs, the full weight of Ryan’s glare remained on her. Every heavy breath he took seemed to be sapped from her own lungs. The moment her feet touched the carpet, he gave yet another aggravated huff, as though she had just failed a test.
“What?” she demanded, gripping the end of the railing and twisting up to see him.
“You’re not supposed to be on the floor.” His voice punched harder with each word. “You swore—”
“Don’t raise your voice!” She started across the living room.
“Yousworeyou wouldn’t,” he went on. “Especially not while I’m here, working.”
“You can see exactly where I am! Jesus, Ry, I’m not microscopic! Why are you so obsessed with this? Let it go.”
“Do you hear yourself right now? I’m trying to protect you, butfine. Do whatever the hell you want.”
She felt him stand, storming for the kitchen. Nicole stumbled and stopped in her tracks as his footsteps rapidly approached from behind. She held her ground and stared ahead blankly, feeling as though she might faint if she turned around and saw him walking toward her.
“I’m getting more coffee,” he muttered. He marched past her, one of his shoes thudding a bare six inches away from where she stood.
Swallowing a pathetic little yelp, she covered her mouth. He’d scared her on purpose. That wasn’t like him, and she couldn’t help but feel like she had pushed him to this point. Her stupid fucking temper.
“Ryan?” she called in a softer voice. “Look, I… I’m sorry. Do you want to carry me to the kitchen?”
“Your staircase is right there.”
The thudding lessened until it trailed into the kitchen and she couldn’t feel it anymore. Her shoulders slumped, and she shuffled back to the stairs that led to the coffee table. She meant to climb them and return to her chair, but instead, she sank to a seat on the bottom step and buried her face in her hands.
The tears that escaped were a hot and steady stream. Ryan’s footsteps thudded back to her—softly, slowly. When he knelt, she froze up, the heat in her face turning to ice. He offered his hands.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
Nicole rubbed her eyes. Deciding not to make him feel any shittier, she let him pick her up.
“I know,” she said, resting her cheek against his neck. She shivered and tried to vanish the urge to sob again.
“I shouldn’t have shouted. That was stupid of me, I just… It kills me that you think I’m scary o-or not on your side. I hate getting so worked up like that. I feel so helpless.” He held her out so he could see her. “Are you okay?”
“M’fine.”
His voice softened even more. “Areweokay?”
This was harder. She struggled to look at him. He waited. Finally, she nodded. He kissed her head and hugged her again and she wanted to vanish into his warmth. She loved when he held her like this, where she could feel his heartbeat. Where she felt like the center of his world—protected.
Nicole thought of the phone slamming against the wall, and wondered if there would be a mark on the door. As Ryan slowly walked to the kitchen, she stole a look toward where the phone lay on the carpet.
