“And Dare . . . why him?”
I blinked slowly, trying to absorb her question. “I don’t—” Another breath of a laugh left me, the sound laced with my aggravation. “I don’t understand your questions or your rapid change of direction in this conversation.”
She didn’t respond, only continued to watch me as she waited for my response.
“There is no why Dare—I can’t even say I know who Dare is. I meet a friend at Brooks Street Café every week, so I see Dare there. But we’ve never spoken before last night, and I planned on never speaking to him again once I left. Then I ran into Libby at the bar, and she refused to let me leave without her. I thought I would be gone from your apartment before Dare ever knew I was there.”
Einstein not only seemed to accept that answer, but was relieved by it. “Then all you need to know is you’re safest here,” she said as she once again turned to leave.
“What—no. After what happened today, this is the last—I shouldn’t be here,” I reiterated, stumbling over my words.
She paused, but didn’t turn around. “I’ll never forget how paralyzing the grief was when Johnny found my sister’s body hours after she left us, because she’d been so determined to run from her ex. It’s something I live with, and will continue to. It’s a past that made me who I am now.” Looking over her shoulder, she held my stare and whispered, “She should’ve accepted our help. You’re safe here . . . trust me.”
I watched her go, stunned into silence, then dropped my head into my hands.
A moment from the night before flashed through my mind.
Libby’s hand squeezing and releasing my wrist. “If I’ve learned anything in my life, it’s that girls need to be there for each other. Especially during the hard times.”
Her words and her worry for me now made sense, and my chest ached for a girl I didn’t know.
I couldn’t imagine Einstein’s grief because what happened to her sister was so different than my brothers, but in a way, I felt like I knew her better than any of the people I’d met last night.
But what I was going through . . . it was nothing like what her sister had.
Kieran would rather kill himself than hurt me. Beck and Conor would die for me. Aric had.
I was Mickey’s only source of ensuring the O’Sullivan blood in Holloway. He’d do anything to keep me safe—keep me hidden.
I needed to get home.
I needed to let them know I was okay.
I snatched my bag from the foot of bed as I climbed off it, and hurried out of the bedroom into an unfamiliar hall.
I rubbed a hand over my arm as electricity spread across my skin. I tensed, my breath catching just before he spoke.
“You planned on never speaking to me again, huh?”
I spun around, my heart rate taking off in a violent rhythm seeing him standing there, leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. But the smile that had haunted my thoughts for years was nowhere to be seen now.
“It’s for the best,” I whispered, my words shaking from the chaos whirling inside me.
As always, every cell in my body was responding to his presence. How can the need to feel his touch . . . his lips . . . just to hear him speak again be nearly overwhelming?
He pushed away from the wall, his steps slow and calculated as he closed the distance between us. “Why is that, Firefly?”
Because you evoke feelings I’ve never experienced—never expected—and it doesn’t make sense.
“Because I can’t do this.” My admission was nothing more than a breath, but it felt heavy falling from my tongue.
I bit back a whimper when he reached me, the tips of his fingers finding my lower stomach to guide me back until I was pressed to the wall.
His forearms framed my head, leaving his lips and body close enough to tease me with the memory of his touch, but far enough to torment me with the space still between us.
Space I knew I needed so I wouldn’t lose my mind in his presence. Again.
“Can’t do what, exactly?”