Hard Beat

“Whose idea was it to take nights off?” I ask, referring to our agreement to not spend every night in each other’s bed as I lift my head up to meet her eyes again. I see that the change of direction in the conversation throws her by the furrow in her brow.

“I don’t remember. It just kind of came up, didn’t it?”

“You tell me.” I honestly don’t remember because my brain was probably fogged up from the incredible sex we’d just had when the topic arose as we lay spent and panting a few weeks ago. But right now, I have a deep, unsettling feeling that she’s the culprit of starting the conversation. That she created a way out to have nights to herself to get away and do whatever the fuck she does.

“I don’t know. Maybe I did. I honestly don’t remember.”

“Convenient,” I snort.

“What’s so wrong with not wanting to smother each other? With knowing a damn good thing when I see one and not wanting you to get sick of me? Of wanting to keep this thing between us healthy for both work reasons and for whatever this is between us? I don’t understand where you’re going with this, Ta

“Where I’m going with this?” My voice rises in volume for the first time since she’s entered the room although it feels like I’ve been screaming in my head the entire time. “Where am I going? How about where are you going? That’s a more fitting question.” When she just stares, her eyes blinking and fingers hanging over the edge of the dresser where her hips lean, I continue. “You promised me you weren’t going to go out anymore at nighttime.”

“Yeah…”

Letting the silence hang between us, I give her a chance to fess up even though I know from her eyes there is nothing to tell because she thinks she did nothing wrong. I gesture nonchalantly to the cameras on the table beside me. “The pictures on the cameras… they’re good. When’d you take them?”

C’mon, Beaux, don’t lie to me. I need her to be up front with me, need to know that I mean enough to her to come clean now even though she lied to me when she left to take them. It’s screwed-up logic at best but something I need to hang on to.

“When I was out.”

“Can you be a little more specific?”

“About?”

“Well I sure as hell wasn’t with you when you took these pictures.”

“True.” She raises her eyebrows and crosses her arms over her chest like she’s losing patience with me, and all I can do is chuckle at the irony in her body language. “Why don’t you just come out and ask what you want to ask, Ta

“Did you go out by yourself to take pictures?”

“Not since the last time you told me not to,” she lies as she makes a show of looking at her watch, “which was two minutes ago.”

Her sarcasm infuriates me even though a part of me admires her all at the same time. It’s a fucked-up mix, and that I respect her for standing her ground makes me even more pissed. The goddamn woman is going to be the death of me. “You’re a horrible liar.”

She just lifts her eyebrows in a “yeah, so what” gesture that causes me to grit my teeth.

“And I believe you promised me you weren’t going to go out by yourself anymore, let alone at night, and yet the time stamp on these pictures says you did just that.” I wait for a reaction, wait for her to disagree with me, offer an explanation, but she doesn’t. She just stands there and ever so slowly nods her head in agreement with my statement. “What the fuck are you doing, Beaux? Trying to get yourself killed?” I can’t contain my frustration anymore. I push up out of the chair, shove my hands through my hair in a useless gesture, and pace the floor in front of her to abate some of the restless energy that feels like it’s eating me alive.

“Ta

“Don’t Ta

How I still feel like I know so little about her since she continually changes the subject any and every time we talk about home.

My anger collides with my insecurity and makes me realize just why I’m so upset. No one likes to be made to feel like a fool, and right now it’s exactly how I feel. My life, my past, my everything, has been completely opened to her, and while I don’t expect her to give me a blow-by-blow of her past, shouldn’t she at least offer more than the generalities that I do know?

I run a hand down the back of my neck while I stare into those deep green eyes of hers, needing to step the fuck away from her so that I can gather my thoughts and figure out where my heart and head are, because obviously they are a hell of a lot more invested than hers are.

“Just forget it,” I tell her in a voice eerily similar to her emotionless tone.

I walk from the room without another word and head up the stairwell, needing my space to clear my head, take stock, and be by myself. Too much, too damn fast.

I can’t help but laugh, though, the sounds dying in the heat of the day as I shove open the door to the rooftop and make my way to my sanctuary. Stella was so damn right, it’s comical. I sure as hell feel a lot more than just lust for Beaux right now, and even though I refuse to say the L-word that Stella was so damn fond of using, it doesn’t mean my head doesn’t see it lurking on the horizon.

“Fuck!” I bark to no one, knowing it’s going to be hotter than hell up here right now and not caring, because I just need a few moments, some time not to feel so fucking scattered.

First of all there’s Beaux and her lack of emotional investment in this. And the minute the thought crosses my mind, I reject it just as quickly because that’s a total bullshit statement. I know she’s invested in what’s between us. I can see it in her eyes, feel it in her touch. I just wish I knew what the fuck it is that’s keeping her from opening up to me. Whatever it is that’s holding her back is so damn strong, it’s almost tangible.

Maybe I’ll call Rafe and ask him more about her. It’s not the first time the thought’s crossed my mind, but I keep telling myself I need to wait her out, let her tell me in her own time. The question is, how much longer do I wait? At what point will I have to step back to prevent myself from getting hurt?

Except I have the sinking feeling I’m pretty much all in at this point, or else I wouldn’t have just reacted like I did.

I scrub my hands over my face. This emotional overload like I’m a damn teenager can stop anytime now.

Fuck. I close my eyes and lean my head against the wall behind me as I take refuge in the tiny bit of shade from the wall the mattress is pushed up against. I haven’t been this worked up in a long time, and I feel stupid yet validated in my feelings.

“Ta

“Go away, Beaux.”

“We need to talk.”

My mind flashes back to the last time I was up here with Stella and the talk we had that led to the kiss.

“No, we don’t. You’re stubborn, clearly going to do whatever you want without any worry for your own safety, and I just… I’ve already lost one person I cared about because of that lack of caution, and I can’t go through that again. Simple as that.”