Page 38 of Twisted Redemption

She’s scared.

“Hey. You’re safe. You know that, right?” My hand finds hers in her lap, but she pulls away from me.

“For now,” she murmurs, half to herself. She tugs her other hand away from my chest. It rips a hole in my heart, but I keep my expression even. I need to focus on her right now.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Daisy.”

Doubt crosses her face. She shakes her head, her eyebrows furrowing. “Please don’t call me that. And I—I don’t understand how you can make sure nothing will happen to me when you’re...” She presses her lips together, and I see a moment of regret on her face.

Ignoring the irritation biting at me, I stand. She has to tilt her head to look up at me, and it reminds me of a scenario I’ve thought of every night for god knows how many years.

The image goes straight to my dick. Not now, you idiot.

“I’m what, Brooke?”

Her head falls as she breaks our gaze. But I cup her chin gently, bringing it back up so she has to make eye contact with me.

“I’m what, Brooke?” My tone is too impatient, but at the moment I don’t care. I just need her to say whatever is on her mind. Whatever is making her doubt me.

“I just—I know you got me Angel, and she’s comforting and I love her, but—” She pinches the bridge of her nose and takes a deep breath. “Blaze, I know things haven’t been great between us lately. And I know it’s a lot to ask because you—” Her voice breaks, and she pushes my arm away, burying her face in her hands.

I stare at her in confusion. Sure, things haven’t been the best between us. But what does that have to do with Angel? She said she doesn’t like being here alone, so I—

Oh.

That irritation comes back, biting at my skin, but I shove it down.

“Brooke. Look at me.”

She does, but it’s only a moment before she looks away again, taking a deep breath to keep herself from crying.

“If you think for one goddamned second that I’m letting you out of my sight, you’re fucking delusional.”

The words come out harsher than I meant, and I’m pretty sure that’s what pushes her over the edge. She quiets her sobs by pressing a hand to her mouth.

Shit. I used to be the person she could always count on to comfort her, and here I am, being the one to make her cry.

Maybe she deserves it.

She’s terrified, you asshole. And you’ve been treating her like shit. Of course she doesn’t think you’re staying.

I fall to my knees, taking her hands and pressing them to my chest. Her forehead comes to rest against mine as she takes tiny, shallow breaths.

“I—I’m so-”

“Don’t you dare apologize.” My tone is still too harsh, and she winces. Kicking myself, I brush away her tears with one of my hands. “Daisy, I—”

“Don’t call me that,” she cries out, and her sobs start all over again. Her head falls to my shoulder.

I sigh. “Brooke. Let’s just go to bed. You’re exhausted.”

With a small nod, she stands, abandoning her tea. We head upstairs, and while she’s in the bathroom, I grab a pillow and some blankets from the master bedroom. I’m arranging them on her floor when I feel her watching me from the doorway.

I turn. Thankfully, it looks like she’s stopped crying.

Shifting nervously from foot to foot, she says, “I don’t want you to spend the night on the floor. You already have enough trouble sleeping.”

I grit my teeth before saying, “If this is your way of getting me to sleep in the master, it won’t work. I told you. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

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