“I don’t know how to make her more comfortable.”
“You can’t. She has to do it on her own. When people are just as genuine around her in a month as they are today, she’ll start to realize she can trust them.”
I nod once again, but I don’t know if she’s going to give me another month. With as many people involved, I know it’s not going to take that long for us to find the person setting out to hurt her, and I have a gut feeling that the moment they’re apprehended, she’s going to be gone. I don’t have much time to convince her that she’s exactly where she needs to be, not necessarily at the clubhouse, but by my side.
“She’ll get there,” Lana says before walking away to join her husband at one of the tables.
Faith’s strength and confidence—her ability to stand with her head held high and voice her demands without faltering—is one of the things that attracted me to her. The first thing, of course, was just how beautiful the woman is, but when I saw her walking out of Kincaid’s house that day, my head wasn’t in the same place it is now. Then, I wanted to get her on her back because I’m a horny asshole. When she stood up to me in her office that second time, I got a hard-on for that confident woman who had no qualms with putting me in my place. It had the adverse effect she was hoping for, but here we are.
She’s going to be sleeping in my bed tonight. I’m going to wake in the morning with my arms around her. It’s a far cry from the woman who threatened to call the police on me if I didn’t stop bothering her.
I carry the plates to the table, and with a weak smile of gratitude, she accepts it, but I know it’s forced. She isn’t happy. I don’t imagine anyone in her current position would be, and I hate that the smiles she shared with me on our date are absent.
Dinner is spent with people talking around us, and she isn’t rude, but she also doesn’t answer questions and give feedback with the level of enthusiasm I know she’s capable of.
Maybe I’m expecting too much. Maybe the way she’s feeling is less about what Lana suggested and more to do with her feeling stuck in the last place she wants to be. Maybe I’ve stepped in and taken over her life, and although Cerberus is providing the safety she desperately needs, she’s bitter about the intervention. Maybe she’s accepting the help but plans to run as far as possible once it’s no longer needed.
My chest caves, aching with that possibility. I need her to stay. I need her to still want me—need me—when it’s all over.
I swallow thickly, the casserole that smelled so good when we first walked in, now making my stomach turn. I move food around on my plate, hoping she doesn’t notice the shift in my own mood. The last thing I want to do is make this about me.
She eats almost everything on her plate, giving me a placating smile when she’s done. Needing a moment to myself, I grab both of our plates and carry them to the sink, rinsing them before sliding them into the dishwasher.
By the time I turn around, I catch her walking out of the room, and I’m torn with what I should do. She may need to be alone, uninterested in me following her.
I look at Kincaid, and the guy must know where my head is at because the look of understanding is clear on his face. He angles his head toward the door leading out of the kitchen. If the man thinks going after her is what’s best, I trust his instincts.
The bedroom door is closing by the time I make it into the hallway. I wonder if I should knock instead of just walking in, but that goes against every damn dominant trait I have. I’ve never been a man to question my instincts. If I feel that something should be done, I do it.
I don’t see Faith being on board with me storming into the room and demanding her to leave her worries at my feet. Knowing what I know about her, she’d shut down and tell me to fuck off. Damn it, her being different from every other woman I’ve known just lights my damn fire.
I’ve never pictured myself changing for a woman, never imagined I’d hold back on who I am to my core in fear of being too much.
As I stand in the hallway, I realize I can’t do that. I can’t be less of me to fit her needs, and I’d never ask it of her. As much as I want to be a part of her life, it’s all of me, all the time. As much as it may hurt, I have to accept that if I’m not what she needs, then what I’d hope we’d build just wasn’t meant to happen.