Page 108 of 1 Last Shot

I can't get the rest out. The sight of Isabella watching me get hauled away by the cops, of her scared and heartbroken gaze when I yelled at her, is enough to tear my heart in fucking two. I never want to subject her to any of that, ever again. I don't even know how to properly apologize for it.

"Did the thing with your mom scare you that much?" she asks quietly.

Swallowing roughly, I nod and force myself to be honest. "She always throws me off my game when she pops up in my life, but seeing her withyou…" I shake the terror from my bones at the memory. "I couldn't stand that she was even in the same room with you. I don't even want her breathing the sameairas you. If she had touched you, or taken her threat to the next level… I swear, if she had hurt you I would havelost my shit—"

"Kane," she interrupts, stopping me before I spiral too deep. Her hand grips mine. "Kane, I know her threat scared you, but believe me when I say:I'm fine."

My hand tightens around hers, desperation seeping into my grip. "I won't let her hurt you, Iswear. I'll keep her away from you. I'll keep my distance, and I'll get her what she wants without it affecting you, and I'll—"

Once again, she cuts me off. Lifting onto her knees, she scoots forward until she's directly in front of me and facing me. Her hands come up to cup my face.

"We'll figure it out together," she says quietly.

A ragged exhale leaves my lips as my forehead drops to hers. My hands come up to rest on her waist, needing that physical connection.

My throat bobs on a swallow. I almost can't bring myself to say it, but I ask anyway. "Together?"

Isabella smiles at me. And she simply nods.

I can't stop the disbelief from bursting out of me. "You're not running away from me? You're not scared? Because I'm dangerous, and bad news, and I have anger issues even on good days—"

"Stop," she growls angrily. "Just… stop."

I bite off the rest of my self-disgust.

Her thumbs brush over my cheekbones, her touch soothing. "I'm not going anywhere," she says softly. Then she presses a sweet kiss to the corner of my mouth. "You don't scare me," she adds in a whisper.

A breath rushes out of me. With just those words, the fear, thepanic, that's filled me all morning, leaves my body. She wants to stay.

She wants to stay with me.

"But…"

I swallow nervously at that one word out of her mouth, knowing this is the hard part. The important part.

"But I think you need to ask for help," she whispers. "As much as I like knowing I make you happy, I can't be a crutch for you, either. I mean it when I say I'm not going anywhere, and I'll help in any way I can,bewhatever you need me to be, but… I think you need to actually deal with everything in your head."

I can't do anything but nod. I know she's right. I've always known this, I've just never wanted to accept it.

"We'll take baby steps," she says soothingly. "Keep coming to yoga with me. We can do it at home, too, if it helps to get you out of your head. I'll be your own private tutor and critique you as much as you want." That makes my lips twitch with a half smile, and she looks relieved at the sight.

But we sober just as quickly. "I think you should talk to the guys at the gym, too," she says, then quickly adds, "Not about… all this, but about changing up your training a little bit. Maybe Jax can help?"

I nod quickly in agreement, my hold on Isabella's waist tightening. "Okay. Okay, yeah."

She bites her lip, clearly hesitating before saying what she really wants to say.

"And maybe… maybe you could talk to someone. Someone like… a therapist?"

I can't stop the wince before it shows on my face. The idea of talking to a stranger, of forcing myself to verbally vomit all of my problems, doesn't sound appealingorhelpful. But this isn't the first time someone has suggested I see a therapist—though it hits me that for the first time, the idea doesn't seem as crazy as it always has.

Isabella sees all of that in my expression, and likely expected it, because her smile is sad, but knowing. "We'll work up to that."

"I'll get help, I promise," I tell her, hurrying to assure her that I'm not a total lost cause. "I will. I've always known I need healthier ways to cope with my shit, I just… I never had a reason to try. Or to care."

"I care," she whispers, sinking her hands into my hair and shifting forward on her knees until her lips brush against mine. "Icare."

My shaky, disbelieving exhale brushes against her lips. I want to kiss herso bad, to just get to the good part, but I need to be honest with her.

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