Page 92 of Hero Mine

She flinched and edged farther away from him.Fuck. He shouldn’t have said that.

“Bug, I didn’t mean it like that.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, defiant, but he knew that was a facade. “How did you mean it?”

“I didn’t want to add to your paranoia.” Goddamn it. That wasn’t the right thing to say either.

“You think I’m weak. Too fragile to help you with your problems.”

“No.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Joy, I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

She shook her head. “I need to go home.”

“Don’t leave like this. We should talk.”

“Not tonight.” Her voice was firm. “I need some space to think.”

Bear knew that look. Pushing now would only make things worse. “At least let me drive you.”

“I’ll walk.”

“It’s nearly midnight, and we just had a break-in.”

Joy’s shoulders slumped slightly. “Fine. Drive me home. But I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

The drive to Joy’s house was painfully silent. He gripped the steering wheel, searching for the right words, but everything he came up with sounded like an excuse. When he pulled into her driveway, she was out of the truck before he’d fully stopped.

“Joy—” he started.

“Not now.” She paused at her front door, her expression unreadable in the darkness. “I need to process that the man I trust most in this world doesn’t feel like he can trustme.”

She closed the door behind her with a quiet click that somehow hurt more than if she’d slammed it.

He sat in his truck, staring at her darkened house. He’d messed up—badly. In trying to protect her, he’d managed to do the exact opposite.

The night air bit at his skin as he finally stepped out of the truck, checking the perimeter of her property before heading back home. Her safety was always going to be his priority, whether they were arguing or not.

One thought kept circling in his mind as he finished and drove away: he’d been so focused on not letting the past hurt Joy again that he might have damaged their future instead.

Chapter26

Joy didn’t sleep out in the playhouse that night. But only because she didn’t sleep at all.

Now, she stared up at her ceiling. The blankets were tucked neatly around her, far too neatly for someone who’d actually slept in them, because—news flash—she hadn’t. She’d gone back and forth between her bedroom and the playhouse.

Too chicken to sleep in her own bedroom. Too stubborn to sleep in the playhouse. She hadn’t turned the lights on in either place, had just floated back and forth like a vanquished ghost.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand—probably Bear again. He’d texted three times since their argument last night. First to make sure she’d gotten inside safely. Then to apologize. Finally, to ask if he could come over so they could talk.

She’d responded to the first with a simple “Yes, thank you.” Ignored the second. And answered the third with, “Not tonight. I need to figure stuff out.”

The phone buzzed again. Joy sighed and reached for it.

Good morning. Just checking in. Can we talk today?

She set the phone back down without answering. She wanted to respond, but what was there to say? That she’d spent two nights this week hiding in her playhouse like a frightened child and last night moving like a zombie between there and her house?

That she couldn’t even keep it together enough for her boyfriend to share something as simple as minor theft concerns, and she couldn’t blame him?