Page 87 of Wanna Play A Game?
The sound of an explosion fills the room. Fuck, the TV is still on. Where’s the remote?
That’s right, on the dresser.
I reach over Cali to grab it.
She flinches back violently, throwing her hands in front of her face.
I freeze.
Cali scoots back, looking at me from behind her hands.
Ice fills my stomach. She acts like she thought I was going to hit her. She thinks I’d hit her? Guilt fills me immediately, chased closely by anger.
“Cali…” I swallow, then growl. “Has someone been hitting you?”
She backs away more. “Sorry. I’m sorry! I…didn’t mean to uh…sorry.”
I clench my jaw as her eyes dart around the room, looking for an escape.
My voice comes out dark, “Care to tell me why this is the second time you’ve flinched like that?”
I can see Cali’s pulse racing in her throat. She sits up straighter. She looks like she’s scrambling for an excuse. “Maybe I’m just afraid of you,” she says.
Those words hit me like a punch to the gut. I swallow. Anger rolls in just as quickly. No, she’s just trying to cover up.
I narrow my eyes and grit, “You didn’t seem too afraid sleeping right next to me.”
Cali’s eyes dart away again. “Yeah…well! I was tired! Doesn’t take away the fact that you kidnapped me!”
I remember the first time she flinched with me. I brushed it off because I believed she might be afraid of me because of that. Not anymore.
“Cali,” my voice is low and full of warning. “I think it’s time for a little talk.”
She clenches her jaw. “No.”
Her eyes are full of fear. It makes my blood boil. I vowed I’d never get that look again.
I feel like throwing up.
“Refuse all you want,” I say, louder than I intend. “You’re not leaving this couch until you’re honest with me.”
Cali pulls her legs up and wraps her arms around them. She looks at me, her eyes wide in fear.
Goddamn it, I’ve done it again. I heave in a breath. My hands are shaking. I’m fucking this whole thing up. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m not my dad. I’m not him.
But you are like him. You scare people.
“Cali,” I clear my throat and try again, softer. “Do you know the kind of people I hunt?”
She stares at her hands and doesn’t answer.
I want to reach out and tilt her chin up to look at me, but I couldn’t live with myself if she flinched again.
“Cali,” I say, trying to keep my voice from shaking. Jesus, I’m being so weak right now. I don’t want her to hate me because of this. I clear my throat. “My marks are wife-beaters. Pieces of shit. The kind of people who make women flinch.”
I watch Cali swallow, her delicate neck bobbing. She won’t look at me.
I wait, my heart racing.
