Clara thinks I’m here to kill her, and I’m not sure how to make her realize that the opposite is true. My entire life changed the day I held her in my arms, and from that moment, my very reason for existing changed too. Keep her alive. Keep her happy. Kill anyone and anything that may prevent her from being safe and happy. It’s simple really. Clara is the center of my universe. So how do I make her see I have no intention of harming her?
She huffs out an annoyed sigh I’m sure is meant to show me she’s frustrated by my presence, but she doesn’t realize I know her better than that. I know when she’s lying, even if she doesn’t use words to speak her mistruths, and the little performance she’s putting on only makes my cock grow hard in my jeans. “I don’t need you to babysit me, Tommy. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“You said that already.”
“You didn’t listen, so I thought it was worth repeating.”
I close my eyes for a moment and let out a long breath. The problem with not getting close to anyone for years is that I’m not the best at navigating human emotions and people not doing as I think they should. Right now, Clara should be doing as she’s told and accepting the help I’m offering her, but instead, she’s arguing despite her obvious pain. Why would she not accept the help?
People make no sense.
When I open my eyes, she’s still staring at me with confusion written across her features. Fuck, she’s beautiful. Like the only flower in the middle of a desert or a mirage in the middle of the ocean. I lean forward until I’m in her space and carefully grip her chin between my thumb and forefinger. “It seems we have a misunderstanding here, fawn. I’m here to take care of you. You’re going to allow me to do exactly that until such time as I think you’re capable of doing it yourself, and then we’ll reassess.”
Her eyes widen, but she makes no attempt to remove herself from my proximity. Interesting. She opens her mouth to respond, but I shake my head slowly.
“Do I seem like a man you should argue with, Clara?”
“No,” she breathes.
“So why do you repeatedly do exactly that?” I don’t bother waiting for her response before continuing. “I understand you don’t like to rely on people, fawn. I probably understand better than most, but you need to learn to lean on others when they offer.”
“You don’t understand,” she murmurs.
“Yes, I do. Now, would you like to change into something more comfortable? I can go find you something to wear. Or I can carry you into your bedroom and you can point me in the right direction.”
She lets out a squeak of protest before shaking her head. “I’m comfortable in what I’m wearing,” she rushes out.
I raise my brow and look her over once again. It’s not that her outfit seems overly uncomfortable, but I happen to know Clara changes out of her work clothes as soon as she walks in the front door. She never stops to read her mail or to listen to the answering machine, so why would she be comfortable sitting in them for hours on end now?
“You wouldn’t happen to be lying to me, would you, fawn?”
“No.”
“Hmm. See, I think you should change.”
I push to my feet and stroll toward her bedroom, not stopping to even pretend I don’t know where I’m going. If she asks, which I doubt she will, I’ll just remind her that I have been in this apartment once before with an invite. I’ll just leave out all the nights since then that I’ve spent watching her sleep and occasionally brushing the hair from her eyes. She doesn’t need to know about that.
“Where are you going?” she calls after me.
“To find you something to wear,” I reply over my shoulder and disappear into her bedroom. It’s just as clean as the rest of the apartment, with nothing out of place and the bed perfectly made. I think Clara would have a heart attack if she saw how my apartment looks right now. I don’t spend enough time there to give a fuck what it looks like, so I spend very little time on upkeep.
I make my way toward the chest of drawers where she keeps her pajamas and only spend a matter of seconds choosing the pale-pink ones she wears most nights. They’re a simple T-shirt and fleece pants set, but she seems to love them.
When I walk back into the living room, she’s still sitting where I left her, except now she looks annoyed. I’m not surprised. I’ve invaded her space and I’ve refused to leave even when she’s asked me repeatedly, but I’ve been invading her space for months. She just didn’t know about it.
“Why do you look like someone kicked your puppy?” I ask, placing the pajamas down on the table in front of her.
“What?” she hisses. “That’s a terrible saying. What did that puppy ever do to you?”
“It’s a metaphorical puppy.”
She glares at me through thick lashes and I’m fucking powerless to it. It’s been a long time since I’ve used that term for myself, since I was a child in fact, but right now, I can’t think of anything else but her. “I want you to leave.”
“That’s nice.”
She lets out an annoyed growl that only makes the smile on my face grow. I’ve always found people irritating, but never Clara. Since the first day I met her, she’s been my very reason for existence.
“Do you need help getting changed?” I ask.
“What?” she snaps. “Of course I don’t need help getting changed. I’m not a child.”
“But you’re hurt.”
“So?” She raises one of her perfectly shaped brows. “You think this is the worst injury I’ve ever had? I hate to break it to you, Tommy, but I’ve nursed myself through much more than just a bruised calf.”
Irrational anger slams into me so hard it knocks the air from my lungs. Who the fuck dared to hurt her? And is that why she is the way she is? Cold and distant to anyone who isn’t in her immediate circle?
“Can you at least turn around?”
Her words penetrate the fog of anger, but I can’t respond. All I can manage is to turn on the spot I’m standing. I need to find out all there is to know about my little fawn because it seems the background check Frost Industries did on her may have been missing some key details from her past, and I need to know everything.
