Page 37 of Eight Years (The Trident Trilogy 1)

“This is really obnoxious. I mean, seriously, you’re being a bully.”

“Don’t care,” he says, crossing his massive arms across his chest. “Spill it or we’re going to stand here all night.”

My eyes are locked with his, but I’m about a thousand percent sure I’m not going to win this staring contest. Sighing, I say, “My dad taught me self-defense—all that stuff I was just trying on you in there. Whenever he thought I was getting too cocky, he would lock me up like you just did to highlight the first rule he taught me about fighting men.”

“Which was?”

“Strike once hard, put them down, and then get as far away from them as possible.”

“That’s good advice for self-defense,” he says, pausing for a second. “Probably not for life, though.”

“Seriously? Oh, I really don’t need to be psychoanalyzed right now. Really, I don’t. May I get in my car, please?”

I try again to reach around him to open the door. I’m not going to be able to move it anyway with him leaning against it. I’ll just get in the passenger side. As I start to walk around, he reads it perfectly and grabs my arm, immobilizing me with just one hand. I really hate him right now.

“Not yet. Tell me one thing you miss doing with him, and then I’ll let you leave.” He’s holding my arm gently, but firmly, and I have no doubt he will physically restrain me if I try to bolt, so I give in.

“You know you have to go first. Tell me what you miss doing with your mom.” It’s a stalling technique, but it’s worth a try.

He lets go of my arm. “Again, I don’t think I agreed to this order, but fine. I miss baking cookies with her.”

“Really? You know how to bake cookies?” I’m endlessly fascinated that these guys have any normal qualities. They always seem like robot fighting machines to me.

“I knew how to sit and watch her bake cookies, and sample them when they came out of the oven. I used to sit at the kitchen table and put them in the little balls on the cookie sheets, and then eat them right when they came out. I burned my tongue more than once.”

I’m just staring at him. I really don’t want to play this game. I don’t want to talk about my dad right now. I’m trying to stall, hoping he will just leave me alone. I know he won’t, but I think he senses I need more time.

“I couldn’t walk into bakeries for years after she died. If I went into a friend’s house, and his mom was baking cookies, I had to leave. If I close my eyes now, I can still smell the house and still hear her humming while she’s baking. It hurt like hell at first, but now it feels nice to remember it,” he says. “It’s your turn, and we’re burning daylight here. One thing you miss about him. Let’s go.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “I miss being in the ocean with him, swimming with him. I haven’t been in the ocean since. . .” I’m starting to choke up a little bit, so I stop.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, since eight years ago when he died, when everything stopped for you, when you quit living.”

“Mason, that’s really uncalled for.” My eyes snap open. I can’t believe what a dick he’s being.

“It’s not. It’s real, Millie. He isn’t here anymore, but you are. You can’t just quit living.” He grabs my arm again and starts pulling me toward his truck. “C’mon, we’re going swimming in the ocean right now.”

I pull my arm away. “No, we’re not. Quit being such an ass. I don’t want to go swimming right now.”

“We go swimming, and I leave you alone. You said you needed a workout, so let’s go.”

“You keep saying you’ll leave me alone, but you never do.”

“Do you want to test how persistent I am? Or do you just want to go for a swim?”

“I haven’t done an open-water swim in. . .” I stop myself from saying eight years, so he won’t jump down my throat again. “I’m not in that kind of shape anymore.”

“I’m going to swim with you. You know, I’m pretty good at it. You might even say I do it for a living. I’ll be there. You won’t drown.”

I really do kind of want to go swimming now that he’s talking about it. It’s really hot, and it sounds refreshing. I don’t want him to know he’s right though. It’s the principle of the matter. Raine told me he’s almost always right, but he definitely doesn’t need to hear that from me right now.

“All right. If you will finally get off my ass, we can go swimming. I just need to grab my swimsuit from the hotel.”

“I’ll follow you there,” he says. “And, Millie, I’m trained in tactical vehicle intervention. If you try to lose me, I will forcibly stop your car, and extract you on the spot.”

When I get out of my car at the hotel, he gets out of his truck and leans against it with his arms folded over his chest.

“I’m assuming if I don’t come out of my room you’re going to breach the door,” I say, rolling my eyes.

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