He was so right it was hard not to hate him for it. But he hadn’t gotten to the root of the problem.
You had to be strong to choose that third option.
It was stupid, really. I was used to being strong for others. I’d had to be ever since I was ten years old and told my father would never be coming home. Mom was strong too. But I’d seen her tears and heard her crying when she thought I was asleep and known I needed to be strong for her. So I had.
So why in the hell couldn’t I be strong now? For my own sake?
Disgusted with myself, my hand betrayed me and invited Petal up onto the couch.
Izzy should have chosen Levi.
24
Since Connor had neglected to give me an appointment time for our promised discussion, I decided to pay him a visit first thing in the morning. My hope was to catch him before he could leave for work. Besides, I couldn’t deal with this hanging over my head all day. I needed to know the ending of the story—good or bad.
I was a hundred yards up the road when a car pulled out of his driveway. Air leaked from my lungs like a punctured tire until my mind registered it was Mae’s blue pickup truck rather than one of Connor’s black SUVs.
I might still be in luck. This conversation was best to have without spectators anyway.
Connor’s Tudor mansion on its half-acre lot rolled into view. The well-kept lawn was looking especially green after the winter season, and the towering maple and oak trees were beginning to unfurl new leaves. My eyes went to the garage, but I couldn’t tell how many cars were inside. Would he be home?
I parked in the circular gravel drive and stepped out into the crisp morning air. Despite the chill, the sun warmed my head and shoulders. Spring was winning. Not giving myself a chance to succumb to nerves, I banged on the bronze lion-head knocker.
The person I’d come to see answered the door. His hair was damp from the shower, and his gray eyes weren’t welcoming. A dog—who must be the infamous Petal—on the other hand, was very welcoming.
I bent down to greet her first.
She was, as Connor had so vividly described, brown and medium-sized. She looked like a Staffy crossed with a Labrador or something along those lines. Floppy ears, heart-melting dark amber eyes, and a solid build, currently too thin based on her protruding rib cage. Her “brown” coat was dull but would be the color of rich chocolate with a better diet—except for some random patches of caramel fur and a nasty scar on her hindquarters. Despite her poor condition, her wriggling body, happy face, and lolling tongue expressed her overwhelming gratitude at the simple pleasure of being petted.
I fell for her instantly.
Could I somehow wrangle things to adopt her as my first fur-friend for my looming spinsterhood? The landlord didn’t visit that often…
“Do you want to come in?” Connor offered.
Petal, after a solid minute of attention, appeared interested in having a sniff around the yard. For her sake, and on the off-chance Connor would derive some peace from the grass and trees, I shook my head. “It’s a lovely day, and I think Petal might prefer we talk out here.”
Wordlessly, he stepped outside, shut the door, and leaned against it. Waiting.
I pushed aside the idea that he was staying as close as he could to the nearest escape route and started talking. “You’ve read my letter, so I guess you already know all the reasons I believe we can make this work. I still believe that.”
I searched his face, hoping to find some sign of receptivity, but his mask was firmly in place.
Swallowing, I continued on with what I’d come to say. “I want to apologize for hurting you. If I’d known what I know now about Sophia and… everything… well, let’s just say I wish I could go back in time and tell you about my plans with Doctor Dan.”
That prodded him into speaking, but his words were not the ones I wanted to hear.
“It’s not about that asshole doctor, Izzy. You must know that. I’d forgive you in a heartbeat if either of us believed you wouldn’t race straight off into danger again.”
“I don’t think that’s fair,” I said carefully. “It’s not like I go looking for danger, and I’m working hard to do whatever I can to minimize the risk.”
“You can’t do enough. That’s clear to me even if it isn’t clear to you yet.”
“That’s what I don’t understand.” My voice was close to pleading. “I mean, there’s a risk of loss in any relationship. I’m taking the same risk with you.”
“Not quite.” His tone was dry yet utterly unamused. “Since I’ve known you, you’ve been held at gunpoint three times, shot once, shot at on two separate occasions, held at knifepoint twice, knocked over the head, abducted, choked, and had your apartment firebombed. That’s not counting all the poisonings. What has happened to me?”
I racked my brain. “You were taken down by a knockout bomb that scrawny scientist guy threw once. And smacked in the nose by Mrs. Fierro’s walking cane…” I realized the list wasn’t nearly as impressive as his and threw my hands in the air. “And you’ve probably been held at gunpoint and knifepoint and every other freaking point dozens of times, but I wouldn’t know because you wouldn’t mention it to me. But you can’t go through life making decisions on fear and avoidance. You taught me that! I used to just lie down and take whatever life threw at me until you made me realize I could fight instead.”
“Then I know who to blame for you running around trying to save the world. But I can’t stay and watch you get yourself killed. I’m sorry. I just can’t.”
I was sick of those words. He was the one who’d told me we always had a choice. “Can’t or won’t?”
“Have you ever lost someone extremely close to you?”
“No,” I had to admit. Not on the level he was referring to.
“Then you can’t understand…” He shrugged. It was an exhausted, defeated motion, and I noticed anew the dark circles under his eyes. “Love doesn’t always find a way, Izzy. Not outside of fairy tales. Sometimes the darkness—the scars, the fear, the pain, and all the bad shit wins.”
I fought to speak past the lump in my throat, ignoring the tears spilling down my cheeks. He was serious. He’d given up. The man I’d chosen to risk my heart on because he’d seemed so strong, unshakable, loyal—was defeated. Wasn’t prepared to fight for me.
“I don’t believe that,” I said. “Not unless you let it.”
Then I walked away, hoping the tears blurring my vision wouldn’t send me sprawling on my ass and add to the list of injuries I’d suffered since knowing him.
Connor
Her tears swept the ground out from under me like a roundhouse kick to the knees. All this time I’d been so wrapped up in my own pain that I hadn’t stopped to think of hers.
I was an idiot. A terrible partner. And who was I even helping in trying to protect myself anyway? If I’d lost her yesterday, the loss wouldn’t have hit any less hard just because we’d broken up. In some ways it would’ve made it worse, knowing I’d chosen to cut my time with her more short. Something I’d inherently known yet was too weak to overcome.
But seeing her tears, seeing her pain, forced me to shift my focus to her instead of myself. And when I did, that dry well inside me began filling up. This was where I always sourced my strength, I realized: protecting others.
“Izzy, wait.”
My words came too late, just as she’d shut the door of her Corvette and started the engine.
I dashed after her car as it rolled down the driveway. Thank goodness she didn’t drive like my brat of a sister, or I’d never catch her. I was running and yelling and waving my arms like a fool and faltered at the realization I could’ve been in some corny romance movie. But I remembered Levi’s words about his “cold, dead fingers,” shoved my dignity aside, and kept running. Petal bounded merrily at my heels.
“Izzy, wait!”
Just before she pulled out onto the road, she spotted me. The brake lights went on, and she got out, a look
of bewilderment on her face. Her goddamn beautiful face. The one I’d almost been dense enough to never wake up beside again.
I came to a stop in front of her, suddenly unsure of my reception. Petal had no such fears and dashed past me to dance around Izzy’s feet.
Great, I’d been outplayed by a creature who ate squirrel poop.
Izzy squatted down to pet her, so I squatted to do the same, glad for the dog’s presence after all.
Now what?
I was going to have to try talking and shit.
Why did the strong, silent type have to go out of fashion anyway? I cursed the sensitive new age movement that changed women’s expectations. Dragging her back to my cave would’ve been a lot easier.
And now I was envious of dogs and Neanderthals.
I cleared my throat. “Forgive me,” I said. Pleaded really. I would’ve been willing enough to kneel in the gravel and beg her forgiveness if only I didn’t have to find words to do it. “I’ve been a selfish idiot so wrapped up in my own needs that I forgot about yours.”
Her eyes lit on me, cautious, still wet with the pain I’d caused, but hopeful.
Something flickered in my chest. And my next words spilled out a little easier.
“You know, Mom pointed out that I was pushing you away for the very reasons I first admired you. Told me I’d end up with a shallow, self-centered narcissist if I wasn’t careful—like Adeline, I guess.”
I was rewarded with a flash of humor on her face.
With luck, that humor was about Adeline rather than my poor attempts to express myself. Where on earth was I going with this again?
“The point is, I was wrong to try to stop you from being who you are. I can’t fall for you because you’re genuine, warm-hearted, and brave and then tell you to stop being those things.”
Petal’s contented panting filled the quiet as I grappled with the upcoming words.
“Deep down, I knew I was making the wrong call. But it didn’t feel like I had a choice.”
I swallowed. Played with the dog’s ears. Getting shot was preferable to saying the next part out loud, but I owed Izzy an explanation.
“I was focusing on my pain, my fear, all the things I was trying to avoid, and I felt too broken—too gutless—to face any of that again.” Would she think less of me for that weakness? I hurried on. “Focusing on the darkness never gave anyone strength. But when I saw your tears, I stopped focusing on myself and all that stuff and thought about you. Not so much the way you throw your clothes on the floor or throw yourself into unwise situations, but your goodness…”
I was distracted by her lips, which slanted upward just slightly. Hell. Was she laughing at me?
Dammit if even that wasn’t better than crying.
“You’re incredible. Your kind heart, your sense of humor, the way you see the best in everyone…” I shrugged uncomfortably. “Even when they fail to see the best in you.” Would she want to stick with me after everything I’d put her through? “You brighten any room you walk in.” The truth of those words hit hard. My house felt lifeless without her. I cleared my throat again. “And I realized I’d do anything to protect that.”
Even if she was not-so-secretly amused while I was pouring out my heart.
Even if it damn near killed me.
I drew in a breath to say the three words that anyone—male or female—loved to hear.
“You were right.” I rushed on, determined to get to the end so I could stop talking. “We can do this. Find a compromise. Work out a battle plan.” She blinked. Hmm, maybe that didn’t come out well. Her emotions weren’t hidden like mine, but there was such a jumble of them on her face that I couldn’t interpret what she was thinking. “I mean, that is, if you’re still prepared to let me try.”
I stumbled to a stop. Waited to hear her response.
The first rule of combat is to keep breathing, keep giving your limbs the oxygen they need, but I was holding my breath.
Izzy shoved my shoulder. Her many hours of self-defense training had strengthened her muscles, and squatting as I was, I landed on my ass in the gravel.
Guess I should’ve kept breathing.
“Of course I’ll let you,” she said. Like I was crazy for wondering. Petal took advantage of my position to lick my face happily as if saying: See? I knew this would work out. And Izzy crawled over and straddled me. “Now say it again.”
Shit. Was she torturing me on purpose? I forced my jaw to unclench. “All of it?”
“No, the part where you told me I was right all along.”
Seeing her playful grin, the tension I’d been carrying in my chest and shoulders ever since we’d broken up loosened. I lifted a gravel-encrusted hand to tuck her wild, sexy-as-hell hair behind her ear, amazed that she’d still let me touch her. “You were right all along,” I told her, then claimed her lips—the ones I’d missed so goddamn much—with mine.
25
After Connor and I had kissed and made up—several times—the first thing I did was raid the fridge for a snack and make myself a coffee on his machine. The second thing I did was insist Connor put on some Vivaldi so I could bond with Petal over our mutual feelings about his terrible taste in music.
He refused.
“But I thought our new agreement was that you’ll go along with any crazy plan I hatch up.”
“That’s not exactly what I remember agreeing to.”
We were seated on my favorite sofa in all of his three living rooms—the comfiest one, naturally. My legs were slung over his lap so I could watch his face while I teased him.
In truth, we’d agreed that I would be respectful of his fear of loss and work seriously toward increasing my safety—through continuing my self-defense training, utilizing his expertise, and carefully considering what I took on my own shoulders versus leaving to the relevant professionals. I would always keep him in the loop, no matter what, so we could face the dangers together, but he wouldn’t have veto power. He would push through his fears and respect my wishes, to support me in helping others or doing whatever I needed to do, and celebrate my newfound strength with me. We would work together, on equal footing, and both be better and stronger for it.
But that was less fun. And I knew he was trying to please me after the past two and a half weeks, so I was going to milk it for all it was worth.
“Hmm,” I said, “sounds like you should’ve gotten it in writing then. But I suppose if you don’t want to listen to classical music, we can go and announce our getting back together to everyone.”
I was betting on Connor liking that idea even less, and judging by his pained expression, I was right.
“C’mon.” I took a delicious sip of coffee and leaned down to rub Petal, who was sitting adorably on Connor’s feet. “I insist you at least tell me the whole story about how you ended up sharing Petal’s esteemed company.”
He crossed his arms in silent protest but began talking anyway. “It’s not a long story. I was driving to work when she dashed across the road in front of my car. It was a busy road, and she looked in bad shape, so I figured I’d better try to catch her. After some coaxing, she let me approach. I took her to a veterinary clinic. Told them I’d pay for her care. But I hadn’t reckoned on them calling the house when I was out and Maria picking up the dog as if she belonged to me. By the time I came home, she was curled up on a duvet in the kitchen. Mom and Maria forbade me from taking her to a shelter while she waited for a new home. So here we are.” He fondled her ears, eliciting several thumps of her tail against the floorboards.
I put my cup on the side table and slid all the way into Connor’s lap to give him a hug of appreciation. “Thank you for rescuing her.”
My gratitude was genuine. But I had a second motive for the hug.
I sneakily grabbed his phone from the couch cushion beside him, concealed it in the sleeve of my jacket, and moved back to my side of the sofa on the pretense of retrieving my coffee. Then I found the appropriate phone app and waited in breath
less anticipation.
A second later, one of his classical albums blared through the room’s sound system.
Petal pricked her ears.
Connor groaned.
The music climbed to a crescendo.
Petal threw back her head and let out a deep-throated, soulful AROOOOOOO.
I stared in shock. Then started laughing.
“She’s not howling in protest. She’s singing along!”
“What?”
“Seriously. She loves it.” I searched for similar singing dogs on YouTube to prove it to him.
“Huh,” he said.
“Now you have to keep her. She’s perfect for you.”
“While I appreciate she enjoys the music, I’m not sure Wagner would approve of her vocal accompaniment.”
“Wagner doesn’t have to approve of it. Only you do. And remember how you agreed to go along with whatever I told you?”
But my nefarious scheming was interrupted by a phone call from Hunt.
It was time to learn whether I was truly worthy of Etta’s respect. Whether I would get away with tranquilizing Hunt, or now that he’d recovered charge of his faculties, he’d kill me.
I hadn’t told Etta how I’d fled before he’d had a chance to wake up.
I told Connor now though, just before we stepped through the doors of the 27th Street Community Police Station, and his lips tugged up at the corners the way I loved so much.
Hunt was sitting at his desk, the one in the open office. His gaze slid over Connor and fixed on me.
I locked my knees so they wouldn’t tremble.
“I don’t recall inviting you,” he muttered.
But he didn’t drag us off into a private room, which I hoped was a sign he might at least keep his voice down.
Duty and the Beast Page 21