Chapter 14 DAN
DAN
Iroll my sleeves up as I pull a pan from her cupboard and place it on the hob with a clatter.
The noise echoes like the thoughts in my head.
I should have cut the thorns from the roses, should have read her medical report, should have been here for her before now.
Should’ve never left. So many should haves.
“What did the pan ever do to you?” Rose leans against the worktop, propping her chin in her hand. She’s pale. Too pale. And still a little shaky on her feet—but she’s pretending she’s fine.
“I thought I told you to stay in the living room.” I narrow my eyes at her. “You’re not very good at following orders, are you?”
“I’m not one of your soldiers, Lieutenant.” Her brows pull inwards with a scowl.
I open the fridge and pour her a glass of juice. “Here, drink this and sit down before you fall down. Again.”
“Yes, sir.” She salutes me and climbs onto a breakfast bar stool, twisting the seat side to side as she sips her juice.
I can’t help but silently chuckle. What I’d do to spank her backside. She should take better care of herself. “I’m not in the army anymore.”
“Were you ever? Or was it just another lie?”
I crack a couple of eggs into the pan. “I never lied to you.”
She almost chokes on her drink, but coughs it up. “You told me your name was Daniel Harris.”
“Harris was my mother’s maiden name. And I never said my name was Daniel.” I point the spatula in her direction, the idea of spanking her with it becoming more and more favourable. “I told you it was Dan, which is what everyone calls me. You just assumed it was short for Daniel.”
She puffs up her chest. “You never corrected me when I was calling you Daniel.”
“It was better for you that you didn’t know my real name.”
Her fist digs into her wide hip. “So you admit you lied.”
“I protected you from the truth. There’s a difference.”
Her blue eyes stare into me, but there's a hint of warmth to them. “Take your shirt off.”
I tilt my head, wondering if I heard that right. “Excuse me?”
“Let me wash your shirt.”
A smile curves my lips. As I unbutton my shirt, I don’t miss how her eyes roam over the ink on my chest, just like they did years ago when I had her alone in her bedroom. Only I have more ink now. “Here.” I hand her the shirt.
She slides off the stool and takes it into the utility room while I scramble her eggs and unload the bags of shopping on the floor.
I glance over my shoulder. She’s taking her time. Probably scrubbing the stains on the shirt. Or maybe steadying herself again. Either way, she’s not as strong as she’s pretending to be. And it guts me that I hadn’t noticed it before.
I feel her eyes on me before I hear her. Hairs stand to attention. Oil splashes on my chest, reminding me I’m shirtless and I kinda like having her watch me.
“You have more tattoos.”
Yep, she’s definitely looking.
“What’s with the roses?” She waves her glass of juice in my direction.
“A reminder that beautiful things aren’t always what they seem.”
The glass slams against the worktop. “You got that right,” she says with a huff.
“Enough with the digs.” The toaster pops up with two slices of bread. “If anyone lied, it’s you.”
“What did I lie about?”
I butter the bread, chewing over my words while mocking hers in my head. What did I lie about? She knows damn well what she did. A snarl forms on my face as I slide her egg on toast over to her. “Here. Eat something.”
“I’m not hungry.” She slides the plate to the side. “What did I lie about?”
“Just eat the damn food, Rose.” My voice cracks more than I want it to.
Fucking choke on it. I turn my back to her and stuff my hand into my pocket and pop a piece of gum from the packet.
The first pop of strawberry on my tongue takes the edge off her betrayal, the flavour making it easier to swallow.
I rub the tightness away in my chest. As much as her rejection hurts, the thought of anything happening to her squeezes my lungs.
“Tell me. I genuinely don’t know what you think I did to you.”
Turning back to her, I soak in her sincere expression and take back my thoughts. Please don’t choke on it, because then I’ll have to give you the kiss of life. She’s still beautiful. Beautiful but deadly. “Do I have to feed you?”
She lifts a piece of toast covered in egg, folds it over and tears a piece off with her teeth. “Happy?” she mumbles. Melted butter drips down her chin, and she licks it up.
My throat tightens. “Did you talk to your husband like a spoilt brat?” I fold my arms over my chest to hide my clenched fists. Every time I think of that motherfucker I want to punch something.
She swallows, her body tensing as she straightens her spine. “Don’t you ever bring that monster’s name up in my house again.”
Now we’re getting somewhere. “Is that why you changed your identity? You’re hiding from him?”
“I changed my name because I didn’t want to be associated with a criminal.”
“Is that why you didn’t wait for me like you said you would?” The words come out too fast and too raw. I hadn’t meant to ask that. Not like this. Something squeezes my chest, making it hard to breathe.
Her blue eyes dull as if covered by a cloud. She wipes her mouth. “Is that what you meant when you said I lied?”
I run a hand down my face. I’ve said too much. Showed my weakness. But where she’s concerned, she is my weakness. “You catch on fast.”
She stands from the stool, pushing her empty plate away. “You’re unbelievable.” She wobbles on her feet, her hand presses against her ribs as if she’s in pain and I corner the counter, wrapping my arms around her.
“You need to take it easy. Are you sure it’s just low blood pressure or whatever you just said?”
“It’s not just hypoglycaemia.” She narrows her eyes as she glares up at me.
“It’s arseholes who betrayed me and think they have the right to be upset that I moved on.
” She pushes against me, but I don’t miss how her palms glide over my chest, her fingertips sliding through the hairs there, outlining the inked feathers on my skin.
I wrap her hair around my fist. “I don’t regret what I did to your father. And I’m not sorry for being the first man you ever loved, but I am sorry I left you that night.”
“I could’ve lived with everything, D’Angelo, but I can’t forgive you for using me and breaking my trust.” She pushes against me again and I let her go. “You hurt me more than anyone’s ever hurt me.” She slams the door on her way out of the kitchen and stomps up the stairs.
I rub the pain in my chest, like a dagger slicing up what’s left of my heart. Am I the asshole here? I don’t think so.
I loved her.
I still do.
And that’s the fucking problem.