Page 44 of Into the Woods

Oh, fuck no. I didn’t have time to argue with my heart or my brain or whatever little piece of my subconscious still thought that.

With a grimace, I dropped to my knees behind her and rubbed her back in a slow circle, my heart twisting into a pretzel. “Easy,” I murmured.

She rested an arm across the back of the toilet seat and lowered her forehead to it, sucking in shuddering breaths.

I reached over and flushed the toilet, then leaned toward the edge of the sink to grab a handful of paper towels. Helping her lean back, I wiped her mouth with a frown. She was too damn pale.

Eyes closed, she scooted away from the toilet and leaned her head against the wall. She drew her knees to her chest before wrapping her arms around her legs. I dropped to my ass across from her, waiting for her to speak.

“Can you just go?” she finally rasped, still not looking at me.

I frowned. “I can’t leave Paris until—”

Her hazel eyes snapped open, full of humiliation and tears. “No, I mean leave the restaurant.”

My spine went ramrod straight. “What about you?”

She waved a hand in the air. “I’ll tell Eric I’m sick and ask him to take me home.”

A low growl rumbled in my chest. “Not fucking happening, sweetheart. You honestly think I’m going to let you get into a car—alone—with that guy?”

“I think you’re not going to let me do anything,” she snapped back, but there was little heat in her words. She sounded exhausted, and I hated that the most. That she’d given up when the girl I knew used to fight.

The entire time I’d known Becca, she’d fought. As a kid, she’d fought for what she wanted, then for her life when she’d gotten sick. Somewhere along the way, she’d lost that, and that fucking killed me. I thought I’d seen a spark of it as we’d reconnected over the past few months. But then I’d gone and fucked it up all over again.

I always fucked it up.

I knew it, but damned if I could stop, especially where Rebecca Whittier was concerned. This girl would forever be my destruction and my salvation.

“He’s dangerous,” I tried, keeping my voice even and low.

She shook her head, looking more than a little distraught. I had the irrational urge to smooth her furrowed brow with a kiss. Then I wondered what she’d do if I kissed her, even on the forehead.

Probably slap me. I’d deserve it.

And it’d be worth it, a dark little voice whispered.

She rubbed her forehead. “How the hell did my life get so…”

“Complicated?” I offered with a tight smile.

She met my gaze. “Fucked up.”

No, what was fucked up was my cock jerking in my jeans as her lips formed the word fuck.

She grimaced, rolling her eyes to the ceiling with a soft scoff. “So much for my big plan.”

I cocked my head, barely catching her words. “What plan?”

She shook her head again. “Nothing.”

“Becca—”

“You know what, Court? I think I’ve been humiliated enough for one night.” She pushed herself up onto wobbly feet and glared at me when I moved to help her. “Can you tell me something?”

“Maybe,” I hedged. There was a lot about my life that I couldn’t—and wouldn’t—tell her. Shit that she didn’t need to know, and I’d protect her as much as I could from my world. She’d been hurt by it enough.

“Is it me?” The note of vulnerability made her voice crack.

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