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“I can’t stay.” My words squeeze at my stomach, spreading a nauseating pain. “Even if I forgave your manipulation, I would be completely dependent on you, jumping into the same fucked-up dynamic I’ve lived all my life.”

I turn and enter the house. Trudging toward the staircase, I try to swallow the stupid tears.

“No.” Corm’s voice halts me as I put a foot on the first step.

I don’t turn, but I don’t move forward. His footsteps approach, but he stops before coming too close.

Still, his scent hits me like the most potent drug, weakening my resolution.

“Don’t go anywhere. Stay here. I’ll go.”

Sighing, I turn to look at him. “That makes no sense.”

“Humor me.” He steps toward me. “It’s late; all your things are here. It makes no sense for you to leave now. Let me help you, please. Stay here. I won’t bother you. You take your time, hating me, thinking about things. Whatever you need.”

I want to back away, and at the same time lean closer. “I can’t take away your house from you, even for a short time. I don’t want to owe you and—”

“Then take that job finally, so money is not an issue in your head.”

Jesus, it’s easy for him to say. “It’s not an issue in my head only.”

“As far as I’m concerned, it is. I will take care of you, whether you like it or not.”

It’s strange when, after years of being lonely, I have someone forcing their attention on me so fiercely. It’s wrong, and yet intoxicating.

“Why?”

I should go upstairs, pack, and leave, and yet, deep down in my heart, I know his intentions are noble, not scheming. Are about me, not about that stupid deal.

His execution is all fucked-up, but despite being betrayed brutally in the last few weeks, months, years, I still trust this man. Or for some stupid reason, I really, truly want to.

I trust you, not because you gave me any reasons to trust you, but because somewhere deep down, I feel like you’re the answer.

Just like he confessed his feelings last night.

So I seek his confirmation for my insanity.

Because there is another thing I know deep down. If I leave now, we would be over, and I would be even more lost than I am now.

He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. “Haven’t I made myself clear yet? I love you, Saar.”

This should not make me want to stay, but it does. It does. Perhaps I’m a person who needs an audience to shine.

Who needs someone to support her and remind her who she is when she is lost. And maybe I always chose the wrong person before.

Maybe I can find myself while I feel safe and cared for. Even if I have to fight for my independence every step of the way.

Especially since the fight with this stubborn bastard ignites me more than anything else currently.

“Can you try to understand how hard this is for me? I gave you control in the bedroom, but in real life you can’t bully your way into my life. I need to think about everything.”

All my trust issues bubble to the surface and fight an ugly, bloody fight with my need to be loved. Loved by this controlling, demanding man who makes sure I eat regularly.

Will I give up on myself if I stay? Or will I give myself a better chance to find myself?

He nods and kisses my forehead. “I understand, baby. Get a job, so you can gain your independence and stand up on your own two feet. Because you’re capable, and there is no doubt in my mind you will succeed.”

Oh, what his praise does to me. And what it means to have someone believing in me. More than I believe in myself.