Page 123 of What You left in Me

“Me,” I agree, because it’s stupid to start a fight with denial.

She slams the door behind her. The sound goes straight through my spine. “You don’t get to sit in here drinking to cope with your emotions.”

“I’m hydrating,” I say. “Self-care.”

She stares at the glass in my hand like she wants to throw it and then thinks better of giving me that kind of satisfaction. “I want to hate you.”

“You could.” I say, quietly.

“I should never speak to you again. Stay away from you and make you forget everything.”

“You won’t manage that.”

“I don’t want you to think of my mother every time I look at you.”

Is that what she thinks I see?“Ariane, I see you and only you. There is no way I would see anyone else in you. No matter how much you try to fight it, I know you’ll come back to me.”

She steps closer. “Take it off.”

I lean back in the chair, let the words unfurl. “Take what off?”

“Don’t make me say it.” Her chin tips, defiant and broken at once. “The tracker. I don’t want you to even think of me, let alone keep track of my every movement. ”

My gaze drops, traitor that it is, to the outline of metal beneath the hem of her sleep shorts. The anklet sits like a ring of claim. She’s flushed with fury; the small muscle in her throat works. She hates that she wore it to my office. She hates more that she didn’t think to hide it.

I set the bourbon down. She’s persistent. “And if I don’t?”

She laughs without humor. “Then I buy bolt cutters and do it myself. But not before I also remove your hand at the wrist.”

“That would be inconvenient,” I say. “I need it for work.”

She takes another step. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.” I keep my voice level and mean. “Ask me like you mean it.”

Her pupils flare. “You are such an asshole.”

“Correct.” I stand, slow, until we’re almost the same height. She still has to raise her chin to look me in the eye. “Ask.”

Her breath hitches. “Finnick,” she says, and my name on her tongue is blasphemy, “take it off.”

“Why?”

“Because I asked.” She’s trembling. “Because I’m not your property.”

“You’re not,” I agree. “You never were. You chose me. And you’re here to choose me again, which makes youmine. If you wanted me to never speak to you again or be with you again, you would never have come here. You would’ve gotten rid of it yourself.”

Her hand flashes out and shoves my shoulder. “My mother killed yours, Finn. We could never be together.”

I know what she’s thinking. If I was any other man, she’d probably be right. But I’ve made my peace with the truth. Eleanor killed my mother but it’s not Ariane’s fault. I already lost my mother, I’m not about to lose the only other woman I’ve ever loved too.

I catch her wrist, not to restrain, but to stop the second shove she’s planning so she won’t have to cry. “Say what you want from me, Ariane.”

“I want you to stop controlling everything,” she says. “I want you to just agree to this.”

I let her go. “No.”

“Fuck you.”