Lead Me Home (Fight for Me #3)(23)

“Probably.”

She popped her hip on the counter and crossed her arms over her chest.

The stance pushed up her tiny tits, soft mounds of flesh swelling over the neckline of her tight tank. Her olive skin warm, and her innocent face soft, those freckles running across her nose.

No chance could I keep my gaze from dipping from her mouth to that cleft.

My cock stirred and my chest squeezed painfully.

What the hell had I gotten myself into?

Felt like I’d parachuted right behind enemy lines.

Problem was, I had no idea if it was Nikki I was stealing in to rescue or if it was this girl who was going to kill me in the end.

“So why are you up here then?”

“Thought you might be hungry after a long day’s work.”

Or maybe I felt like shit after being such an asshole this morning.

It was a toss up.

Her brow rose, and she tightened her hold across her chest. “I’m a big girl. I think I can feed myself. If I’m staying here, I can’t be interfering with your job. That bar means the world to you.”

So do you.

The thought pierced me like an arrow, sheering straight through me.

I hiked what I hoped looked like an indifferent shoulder, trying to fight off this bullshit feeling I couldn’t shake.

Couldn’t stop the inundation in my mind, though. The idea of what might have happened had she gone back to her place earlier and gotten in the mix of whoever had been there.

My insides clutched.

In pain.

In dread.

Couldn’t stop the assault of images. The horror of someone hurting her.

Stealing her away, too.

I wouldn’t let it happen.

Not again.

Not to her.

And my call with Seth was not sitting well.

“Was hungry and didn’t feel like eating bar food tonight. Thought you might be, too. That’s all. Don’t always get down there first thing. Perks of being the boss.” I shot her a wink with the last, and she was fighting the smile that was twitching across her lips.

“Must be nice,” she said, shifting away and opening the fridge.

She dipped down to peer inside.

My eyes landed on her ass, the girl wearing these tiny black shorts that barely covered her cheeks.

Yeah, so, so nice.

Unbearably nice.

Sweat beaded on my brow, and I beat the attraction back, remembered my mission. Why she was here.

“Want a beer?” she asked, digging through my stash.

“Sure.”

She straightened, two beers in hand. She twisted the cap off the first one, handed it to me, and then opened her own before tilting it toward me.

“Truce?”

Unease wound through me as I stared at her standing in my kitchen.

“Never knew we were at war.”

She laughed a low sound, shaking her head as she glanced at her feet before she peeked up at me. “Don’t pretend we haven’t been fighting something for a long, long time, Ollie.”

I scrubbed a palm over my face and down my beard, searching for an explanation.

Searching for a valid reason for shutting her out.

The truth of why I broke her heart.

Without revealing the part of myself I couldn’t let her have. Not when it belonged to Sydney. Not when I couldn’t be trusted.

“Think we both know you are better off without me.”

A little scoff bled from her mouth. “I couldn’t decide that for myself?”

“You really think so?” It was hard to meet her eyes, but I forced myself to, bringing attention to what I’d done for the first time.

Like a dirty secret kept between us.

“Look what happened the last time I came to you.”

Pain lanced across her face.

I felt it right at the center of me.

Lash. Lash. Lash.

Ones my selfishness had inflicted.

But that was what it always was, wasn’t it?

Selfishness.

Refused to be that way anymore.

For a beat, she looked away, chewing on her bottom lip before she let out a small breath and asked, “Did you need me or were you just using me?”

Hurt leeched out in every word.

Unable to stop myself, I closed the distance between us and took her face between my palms, my voice grit. “I’ve always fucking needed you.”

She jarred, shocked by my sudden movement, and blinked up at me with those eyes that twisted me in two.

I loosened my hold, and my words quieted. “But just because I need you doesn’t mean I get to keep you.”

For a minute, I just got lost there. Looking at her.

Before I ripped myself away from her and turned all of my attention back to fixing dinner.

Guessed I might as well add foolish to that list of fucked-up qualities.

Because that was maybe the dumbest thing I could have given her. But for once, she deserved it.

A little bit of the truth.

She wasn’t looking at me as she fidgeted, those fingers moving out to fiddle with a dishtowel sitting on the counter. “I’m not sure how to move on from that night,” she admitted.

Sorrow had taken me whole when I looked over at her. “Which one?”

That was the crux of things. We had no way to move on. Both of us stuck, and I’d only made it worse.