Chapter Forty-Seven
I went after him .
His broad shoulders, his narrow hips, his strong thighs, he was so fucking stoically beautiful, but he was walking out, and goddamn it, he didn’t get to do that. Not after everything.
So I rushed him and stepped in front of his intimidating height as he reached the front step.
Words spilled out of my mouth like vomit. “Is this your answer? You come here only to walk away? This is your solution to life? Follow me, keep tabs on me, show up where I am, kiss me, make love to me , then walk away?”
His gaze locked above me, staring straight ahead, he didn’t react.
Losing my shit, my voice pitched loud enough to wake the whole damn neighborhood. “I asked you a question!”
“Sound isn’t only audible. It has a vibration. A presence. You can feel it.” He looked down at me. “You will wake your son.”
What the fuck was happening? “He can’t hear me.”
“He will feel it.”
My anger reached new heights. “Is that right, Mr. Parent Figure? You now know what a deaf child can and cannot feel?” Enraged, at him, at myself, at the world, I kept fucking talking instead of walking the hell away while I still had a shred of dignity. “You know what it’s like to have no father, no hearing, and no siblings? You think you can even begin to comprehend what it’s like to be a deaf child navigating this world?” I hated myself more the instant the words left my mouth, but I couldn’t stop.
I jammed a finger at his chest. “You don’t know shit. You don’t know how to communicate. You don’t know how to ask a woman on a date, and you sure as fuck don’t know how to act like a normal fucking human being .”
His hand slammed in to the column next to my head. “I should have left you wild!”
My whole body flinched, and my mouth opened but nothing came out.
Never, never had I seen him lose his temper.
My heart ricocheting around my chest, fear snaked up my spine. Forcing a dry swallow, my voice came out breathless. “I’m not wild.” My voice broke, but I forced the rest out. I gave him the truth. “I’m so tethered I can’t breathe.”
“I. Wanted. To. Own you ,” he rasped.
If reason had wings, it took flight. “No, you didn’t. But it doesn’t matter, because you already do.” Fuck me, he already did. Every thought that didn’t belong to Nash was his. “I’ve been waiting for you for seven years.”
His expression locked down. “Seventeen minutes in the backyard with Rollins—you didn’t choose me.”
Oh. Dear. God .
“You never chose me, Kyrie Eleison Asher.”