Page 17 of Lavender and Lightning

“What’s not fair is you going back on your word, Lydia. We agreed you weren’t going back—”

“No,youdecided I wasn’t going back to work. I never agreed to that. It’s your fault for assuming—”

“The doctor said you need rest, and running around for sixteen hours won’t help you get better.”

Our voices are rising steadily, but something is loose in my chest and I’m struggling to hold on to it. My hands ache as I grip the steering wheel with white knuckles, and I have to keep reminding myself to take it easy on the brakes and accelerator. I can still scent the shift in the air, burnt sugar tickling the edges of my senses.

“You’re acting like I was running a marathon. Wila made sure I didn’t lift anything heavier than a corsage all day and made me take plenty of breaks. Despite what you think, I am capable of taking care of myself and knowing when I’ve hit my limits,” Lydia snaps.

I finally look away from the windshield, turning to see her staring out the passenger window with her good arm tucked around her bad, like she’s trying to cross her arms over her chest. She’s breathing hard and not looking at me, but the tension in her shoulders is visible.

“You know that’s not—”

“At this point, Rhett, no, I don’t know that’s not what you think of me,” she interrupts harshly.

I swallow a growl, taking a turn away from my usual route back to the pack house and heading farther downtown. Lydia and I need to figure this out, and I don’t want the rest of the pack to interfere.

“I’m trying, Lydia. I really am. But with Seth and Darren and this stalker, I don’t know if you’re making objective choices,” I tell her, trying to keep my voice even.

Lydia lets out a bark of a laugh, the sound cruel and so unlike her that I look out of the corner of my eye in alarm. She’s pale, hands clenched into tight fists. The silvery moisture lining her eyes becomes highlighted in the orange flashes of the passing streetlights, and my heart jumps up into my throat.

“Like you’ve got any room to fucking talk. It’s my life we’re talking about here, and you’re acting like I’m some sort of petulant child acting out, not smart enough to understand the consequences of my own actions. What a load of—God, you sound just like him.”

The air in the car feels like it drops ten degrees as her words wash over me. I sound just like…him.Everything I’ve said today, each grim and unreasonable thought that’s gone through my head, flashes back, and it’s enough to make my vision spin for a moment. Thankfully, we’ve arrived outside of Wickland House, and I pull into my reserved space in the front of the building. When I kill the engine and silence fills the cavern between us, I can’t get my chest to expand enough to take a full breath.

She thinks I sound like her abusive ex, the man who she’s still hiding from to this day. And can I really blame her? Have I not been treating her like she’s incapable of seeing reason?

Ya bet yerlily-white arse, ya have, Rhett Cooper.

My mother’s voice enters my mind again, and I duck my head in shame. Looking at where my hands have fallen into my lap, I suck in a ragged breath. I would never put a hand on a woman in anger, but I’ve done something just as bad, if not worse, to Lydia. I promised to protect her from men who would treat her like this.

“Rhett… I’m—”

“No, you don’t—you don’t apologize, love,” I whisper hoarsely, cutting off Lydia’s shaky words. As I look up at her, I catch the flinch she tries to hide. My heart throbs all over again. “Even now you’re… you’re waiting for…”

I trail off, not wanting to finish the thought. But I can read the confirmation in her eyes. She’s waiting for me to lash out, to scream at her for “talking back,” to do all the things I’d been so close to doing. Guilt crashes down over me, crushing my chest and driving the air from my lungs.

I move slowly, keeping my hands where she can see them as I reach over and take her good hand between both of mine. Her skin is cold, and I rub it slightly, trying to warm her on instinct. Her fingers are so delicate compared to mine, skin smooth but not without the callouses that come from hard work.

“I can’t pretend I wasn’t scared shitless when I saw you gone. With your room being so close to the patio doors… I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you,” I start, still keeping my eyes on where my thumbs caress the back of her hand.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, but I can’t live like this, Rhett. Not after… not after everything,” she replies, barely above a whisper.

I look up at her face again, finding her emerald eyes distant, and I know she’s back in that place. Back with Darren and the horrors he put her through. She hasn’t told me everything, but she has told me enough that I should have known better and seen this coming.

“What do you need, Lydia? Tell me, and if it’s in my ability to give, it’s yours,” I implore, holding her hand a little tighter.

There’s a long pause, and her throat bobs as she swallows. She shakes her head a little and seems to come back into her body with a blink before she meets my gaze. I keep my expression open and sincere, trying to tell her without words that I would do anything for her.

“I need you to listen to me, and trust that I know my body and my limits,” she says at last, voice the steadiest it has been since I picked her up.

The alpha in my chest roars its protest. It’s my job to know what she needs before she does and provide it. The primal urge to protect her, even from herself, is strong, but I have to do better.

“I can’t promise I’ll be perfect at it, but I will do my best,” I reply honestly.

Lydia’s little smile lights up my world, and as she leans in, I meet her halfway for a sweet, but intense kiss. When we pull away, she rests her forehead against mine, her eyes closed.

“I hate fighting with you,” she breathes.

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