Bad Things (Tristan & Danika, #1)(46)

“I certainly do. Please. I want to know just what you meant by that. What damage has already been done?”

All of it, I thought. “Nothing,” I said.

He didn’t buy that for a second. “We’re friends. You can tell me anything.”

I mulled that over. Was that true? I was in a mood to find out. “Promise you won’t feel sorry for me,” I whispered, my eyes on the kids, making sure they were out of trouble, and out of earshot.

“I promise,” he whispered back, his other hand reaching into the tree house opening and pulling at my shoulder to tug me further out. I let him, not even protesting when he had my legs out, his chest pressed against my bent knees. “Tell me.”

I grimaced. “It’s nothing, really. It’s old news, and not even that big of a deal. It’s just…you never have to be protective of me. I can take care of myself, and even if I can’t, I know from experience that I’ll survive it, whatever it is.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” he said softly, one of his hands moving into my hair.

Gently, he turned my head to look at him. “What the hell does it mean? Did someone hurt you? Are you talking about your ex? Do I need to go and hurt him?”

I shook my head. “He was a mistake, and a royal *, but no, that’s not what I meant. Though you can’t protect me from *s, either. That’s my choice to make. What I mean is that I’m not some innocent kid. I haven’t been innocent in a very long time, so don’t go thinking that you need to protect me, as though I am.”

“Is that really what you think? That only innocents deserve protection?”

The bastard had pulled a Lucy on me. Is that really what I thought? As I considered the question, I realized that I did, at least as it pertained to me.

I was embarrassed by that realization, but it didn’t change my thinking. My issues were too deeply ingrained for that.

I shrugged, turning my head to look away from him. He didn’t let me, bringing his other hand to tip my chin up.

“Will you tell me what happened?” he asked, something in his tone making me think that he already knew.

“I will,” I allowed, “but not right now. Okay?”

He didn’t look happy about that, but he nodded, his hands dropping away.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN





I didn’t know who was more out of sorts after that.

I had effectively spread my black mood to Tristan, and we steered clear of each other for hours.

I was slipping my feet into my tennis shoes, getting ready to take the dogs for a walk, when Tristan approached me with a cajoling smile.

That smile was nothing but Trouble.

“I just got a call to do a promoting job tonight. Come with me. It’ll be fun. You can go out with what’s-his-name some other night.”

I glared at him, snapping the dogs into their leashes.

He took Coffeecup and Pupcake’s leashes, unfazed by my hostility. I let him, not speaking until we’d nearly circled the block. “I’m not changing my plans tonight.”

“Well, how late are you planning to stay out? You could come by the club after you’re done.”

“Stop,” I said quietly, my expression hard. “Why are you pushing this?”

“Are you really going to be out that late? What exactly are your plans?”

“Just stop!” I nearly shouted, angry now, at him—at both of us. “You don’t get to go out and do whatever the hell you want, and then ask me about what I’m doing.”

He gripped my arm just above the elbow, stopping me. “Is that what this is? Are you mad at me about last night? Is this revenge?”

“Why would this be revenge? How would it be revenge? We’re just friends right? We’re still sticking to that little list, right?”

He nodded, studying me. He looked worried. “You are mad at me. Fuck, Danika, I’m sorry if I hurt—”

“Don’t,” I interrupted him. “I’m not hurt. I’m just fine, but we need to establish some boundaries here. You can go f*ck whoever you want whenever you damn well please, but you don’t get to keep tabs on me, just because I’m a girl. That’s not happening.”

His jaw clenched, and he let go of my arm.

He didn’t say another word about it, but if I’d thought he was in a foul mood earlier, it was nothing compared to the dark mood that conversation put him in.

He went out before I did that night. I was still getting ready when he left. He’d barely said a word to me—barely looked at me, since we’d walked the dogs.

He barely looked at me now, just hovered in the doorway of my bathroom while I put on makeup. “Be careful, boo, and call me if you need me.”

He left before I could respond.

I wore cuffed navy shorts, and a sleeveless, magenta, bib style silk shirt. A pair of flip-flops made it a casual look. I twisted my black hair into a smooth chignon at my nape. Smoky eyes and soft pink lips was the extent of my makeup. I wanted to look nice, but I certainly didn’t want to go overboard and give him the wrong impression.

Jared’s reaction when he saw me was enough to make me flush in pleasure. “You look amazing,” he said, swallowing. “You’re so beautiful.”