“Forget about it,” I dismiss her concern. It’s the last thing I’m thinking.
As soon as I stepped into her space, forcing her back to the wall, I knew I fucked up. The fear washing over her face, the blank look glazing over her eyes… it was nearly too painful to watch. I managed to move her to the sofa and maneuver her head between her legs to control her breathing. What I just did to her in the hall has played out for her before, and judging by her reaction, last time it ended a whole lot fucking worse.
Which is the reason why I should have known. Any sort of fast movement can set her off. I know this. I fucking see it every day. The women we pick up, at all stages, can react the same. I don’t even know why I felt comfortable enough to tease her. Maybe it was the way she was smiling at me, acting like her ex isn’t out there waiting for a chance to get his hands on her. In the last seven days, I’ve watched her relax into a comfortable routine. The scared, broken Mackenzie who showed up on our doorstep is still there, but as each day passes, her confidence has started to grow.
After a few more minutes of running the whole scene over and over in my head, and how I messed up, Hunter finally returns with a glass of water. Taking it from him, I step forward slowly and press the edge of the glass to her lips. She takes a few sips before pushing the glass away. I hand it back to Hunter and nod toward the door, silently telling him to fuck off. He begins to retreat as Mackenzie’s hand reaches out and grabs me.
“I’m sorry, Beau. I can’t believe I reacted like this.” She moves to stand, breaking our connection.
“Don’t ever apologize, Kenzie. I shouldn’t have trapped you in.” I follow her up, not ready to leave her alone just yet. She looks back, eyes wild with distress and shame. “Hey, I’m serious, darlin’. You don’t ever have to hide from me. There is nothing you have to be embarrassed about. I get it.”
“You do?” Her voice is small, almost overly controlled. A façade. Only I can see right through it.
“It was my fault. I should be the one apologizing. Not you,” I offer, hoping to relieve some of her embarrassment. She doesn’t say anything, but something silent passes between us. Like we both know it’s less about whose fault it is, and more about what just happened between us, but we’re not discussing it.
“I’m still hungry,” she finally says before turning and moving toward the kitchen.
I want to stay where we are, ask her about the exact moment she was taken back to in her panic, but I’m not sure I can handle what she’d say. So I don’t. I keep my questions to myself and follow her into the kitchen.
“So, how was your day?” She sets about pulling out food from the fridge as if nothing happened. I move toward her with the intent to take over, wanting her to fully recover from the anxiety I know is still running through her.
“Stop, Beau. You sit, I have this,” she orders the same way I would and I nearly laugh.
“I’m helping. Don’t think you can boss me, woman.” She narrows her eyes on me but doesn’t say anything else. The tension between us still stirs from earlier.
“Can’t you just let someone do something for you once, Beau?”
“I don’t like to be told what to do,” I tell her, trying to explain the way I am.
“I’ve noticed. Why?” She stops and waits for my answer.
“Because I like control, darlin’.” I wait for her reaction. There’s a possibility she might pull away from me, put her walls back up at my confession, but I’m not going to hide who I am around her.
“You know I spent too many years with someone who wanted control, Beau.” She pulls out a fresh loaf of bread and lays out four slices.
“There are many types of control, darlin’.” Her hand is still on the mustard jar but she doesn’t reply. “The difference is I wouldn’t hurt a woman like your ex hurt you.”
“You know there was a time when I believed Chad when he said he wouldn’t hurt me.”
I practically come out of my skin at her comparison, but manage to control it. “Do you think I would ever hurt you, Kenzie? You think I’m like him?” She doesn’t answer at first and it guts me. A small sliver of pain aches its way through my body until it reaches my heart. We both know I’m nothing like him, but I need to hear it from her. Need to know she doesn’t think of me the same way. Like him.
“No, Beau. Of course not. I didn’t mean… I know you wouldn’t hurt me. It’s just Chad took so much from me, and I’ve fought so hard to come back from there. I just don’t ever see myself in that sort of situation again.” Her reasoning makes sense, but it doesn’t stop my displeasure at hearing it.
Get over it, fucker.
“I understand why you think that. I do, darlin’, but the difference between the control Chad took and the control I crave is, if it’s done right, it can be more than you ever thought you would like.”
“I doubt it.” She scoffs before moving about the kitchen. I don’t want to get into it with her anymore. Clearly, we’re both so different, on two separate sides of the universe with our wants and needs. I’m not even sure she knows what I’m getting at, but at least she has some understanding of what I’m about.
Not that it matters.
It will never matter.
“You find any info on Chad yet?” Nix asks later that night when the clubhouse is in the full swing of a weekend party.
As soon as I stepped into her space, forcing her back to the wall, I knew I fucked up. The fear washing over her face, the blank look glazing over her eyes… it was nearly too painful to watch. I managed to move her to the sofa and maneuver her head between her legs to control her breathing. What I just did to her in the hall has played out for her before, and judging by her reaction, last time it ended a whole lot fucking worse.
Which is the reason why I should have known. Any sort of fast movement can set her off. I know this. I fucking see it every day. The women we pick up, at all stages, can react the same. I don’t even know why I felt comfortable enough to tease her. Maybe it was the way she was smiling at me, acting like her ex isn’t out there waiting for a chance to get his hands on her. In the last seven days, I’ve watched her relax into a comfortable routine. The scared, broken Mackenzie who showed up on our doorstep is still there, but as each day passes, her confidence has started to grow.
After a few more minutes of running the whole scene over and over in my head, and how I messed up, Hunter finally returns with a glass of water. Taking it from him, I step forward slowly and press the edge of the glass to her lips. She takes a few sips before pushing the glass away. I hand it back to Hunter and nod toward the door, silently telling him to fuck off. He begins to retreat as Mackenzie’s hand reaches out and grabs me.
“I’m sorry, Beau. I can’t believe I reacted like this.” She moves to stand, breaking our connection.
“Don’t ever apologize, Kenzie. I shouldn’t have trapped you in.” I follow her up, not ready to leave her alone just yet. She looks back, eyes wild with distress and shame. “Hey, I’m serious, darlin’. You don’t ever have to hide from me. There is nothing you have to be embarrassed about. I get it.”
“You do?” Her voice is small, almost overly controlled. A façade. Only I can see right through it.
“It was my fault. I should be the one apologizing. Not you,” I offer, hoping to relieve some of her embarrassment. She doesn’t say anything, but something silent passes between us. Like we both know it’s less about whose fault it is, and more about what just happened between us, but we’re not discussing it.
“I’m still hungry,” she finally says before turning and moving toward the kitchen.
I want to stay where we are, ask her about the exact moment she was taken back to in her panic, but I’m not sure I can handle what she’d say. So I don’t. I keep my questions to myself and follow her into the kitchen.
“So, how was your day?” She sets about pulling out food from the fridge as if nothing happened. I move toward her with the intent to take over, wanting her to fully recover from the anxiety I know is still running through her.
“Stop, Beau. You sit, I have this,” she orders the same way I would and I nearly laugh.
“I’m helping. Don’t think you can boss me, woman.” She narrows her eyes on me but doesn’t say anything else. The tension between us still stirs from earlier.
“Can’t you just let someone do something for you once, Beau?”
“I don’t like to be told what to do,” I tell her, trying to explain the way I am.
“I’ve noticed. Why?” She stops and waits for my answer.
“Because I like control, darlin’.” I wait for her reaction. There’s a possibility she might pull away from me, put her walls back up at my confession, but I’m not going to hide who I am around her.
“You know I spent too many years with someone who wanted control, Beau.” She pulls out a fresh loaf of bread and lays out four slices.
“There are many types of control, darlin’.” Her hand is still on the mustard jar but she doesn’t reply. “The difference is I wouldn’t hurt a woman like your ex hurt you.”
“You know there was a time when I believed Chad when he said he wouldn’t hurt me.”
I practically come out of my skin at her comparison, but manage to control it. “Do you think I would ever hurt you, Kenzie? You think I’m like him?” She doesn’t answer at first and it guts me. A small sliver of pain aches its way through my body until it reaches my heart. We both know I’m nothing like him, but I need to hear it from her. Need to know she doesn’t think of me the same way. Like him.
“No, Beau. Of course not. I didn’t mean… I know you wouldn’t hurt me. It’s just Chad took so much from me, and I’ve fought so hard to come back from there. I just don’t ever see myself in that sort of situation again.” Her reasoning makes sense, but it doesn’t stop my displeasure at hearing it.
Get over it, fucker.
“I understand why you think that. I do, darlin’, but the difference between the control Chad took and the control I crave is, if it’s done right, it can be more than you ever thought you would like.”
“I doubt it.” She scoffs before moving about the kitchen. I don’t want to get into it with her anymore. Clearly, we’re both so different, on two separate sides of the universe with our wants and needs. I’m not even sure she knows what I’m getting at, but at least she has some understanding of what I’m about.
Not that it matters.
It will never matter.
“You find any info on Chad yet?” Nix asks later that night when the clubhouse is in the full swing of a weekend party.
