Chapter 6 #2
“Conflicted.” As she pats the lettuce dry, she continues, “I’m glad he’s facing charges for what he did at the event.
And I’m glad the DA is pushing for the maximum sentence.
But I’m sure he’s gotten away with it before.
That part sucks, knowing there are other women out there who won’t get justice.
Who are probably still struggling after what he did to them. ”
I cross over to the sink and quickly wash my hands. Then I touch Yara’s arm. “And what about you, Tink? Really.”
She turns to me. “Aside from being pissed off, like I said last night? I’m okay. I’ve been felt up worse at the off-base bar back in Clarksville.”
“What?” My voice takes on an angry growl. My body tenses. “Guys touched you without your permission?”
“Ace.” Yara takes my hand with her uninjured one and gives it a light squeeze. “I’m a woman. I hate to say it, but that happens to most of us at some point. It’s not right, not even close. But it happens.”
“It shouldn’t,” I reply firmly. Angrily. “Ever. And definitely not to you.”
“Why not me? I can defend myself better than most women.” She pauses. “Well. Most of the time, at least.”
“Because.”
“Just because?”
Well, not just because. But how to explain why when I’m not entirely sure I understand it myself? All I know is the very thought of a man touching Yara like that, of a man upsetting her, triggering her into a panic attack, making her cry…
Fuck. It makes me want to destroy things. Like that fucking piece of garbage Winthrop, to start.
I could. It might take some planning, but I’m sure I could sneak into his house, wearing the same disguise I’ve used for some of our other clandestine missions, and show that predator Camden Winthrop what it’s really like to be scared. How it feels to be truly helpless.
I could do it. And I wouldn’t feel an iota of guilt. Not when I saw firsthand what he did to Yara and, like her, I strongly suspect she wasn’t his first victim.
But I won’t. Not as long as he ends up going to jail like he deserves. If he gets off somehow, though… That’s a different story. Or if he gets it into his head to come after Yara for revenge. Then all bets are off.
I’m not even aware that my teeth are grinding until Yara touches my jaw. “Ace. You’re going to shatter your teeth if you keep doing that.”
“Hmm?” I forcibly relax my jaw. “What about my teeth?”
“You look like you could crush rocks with them,” she explains. Amusement curves her lips. “I’m okay. Really. And forget what I said about the bar. Let’s focus on making dinner. And deciding what we’re going to watch tonight.”
“I thought we were watching the semifinals?”
Yara collects the dried lettuce and brings it over to the island.
As she tears the leaves into smaller pieces, she says, “I thought we could watch something different. Like one of those car movies you’re always talking about.
The Fast and the Furious. Or Days of Thunder.
Didn’t you say that was one of your favorites?
I checked, and it’s on streaming if you want to see it again. ”
I’m actually shocked into silence for a second.
It’s not that I think Yara is self-absorbed.
Nothing could be further from the truth—she’s one of the most thoughtful people I know.
But to remember something I’m certain I only mentioned in passing, and not just to remember it, but check to see if it’s available to watch tonight?
Offering to watch it with me, no less, when I know it’s not her taste?
Well. There’s another thing to add to the list of why I like her so much.
“We don’t have to,” she offers in the absence of my reply. “We can watch something else. I just thought it might be nice to watch something you liked, for a change.”
“I like BattleBots. I watch it on my own. I told you that.”
“But not as much as movies with cars doing crazy things. Right?”
“I like them both,” I insist. The last thing I want is for Yara to think I’m watching her favorite show begrudgingly.
“But you like car movies better. And Ace.” Her hand comes to my arm, sending shockwaves of electricity zipping through my body. “You’ve done so much for me. Helping me in Tacoma—”
“You don’t need to thank me for that.”
“You’ve been texting me for weeks, just to make sure I’m okay,” Yara continues.
“Being pushy, you mean.”
Her expression softens. “Pushy in the best way.” She pauses before adding, “You came here because you were worried. I know you could have waited until Sunday night, or heck, you could have driven up early Monday morning. But you came because you were worried about me.”
I chuckle. “And basically barged into your weekend plans, you mean.”
Yara takes a step towards me. She’s close enough to smell the peppermint scent of her shampoo and the faint vanilla aroma of her soap. Her eyes glint with sparks of gold and bronze. “I’m glad you did, Ace.”
She takes another step closer. “I’ve been having a tough time recently. And staying home by myself… it wouldn’t have helped. But having you here? It’s been the best weekend I can remember in a long time.”
My chest squeezes at the vulnerability in her gaze.
The same part of me that demanded I protect her back in Tacoma comes surging forward.
Offer to come here every weekend, it orders. Keep helping her with the top-secret project, which is going to be absolutely incredible.
Actually, forget about offering, it adds.
Just show up. Bring more of those s’mores cookies and maybe buy a grill for her patio to make steaks and burgers for her out there.
Watch the rest of the BattleBots seasons together.
And while you’re at it, screw this just friends bullshit and kiss her like you’ve been thinking about for months.
That part of me leans towards Yara, so damn tired of resisting.
But even as I’m moving, that doubtful voice chimes in, reminding me of the reasons I’ve kept my distance.
You’re not good enough for her. She deserves a man who’s strong and whole, not the damaged one you’ve become.
She should be with a man who never let her get hurt, instead of failing her at the first opportunity.
Silencing both voices, I tell Yara another truth. “This has been the best weekend I’ve had in a long time, too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Like a magnet inevitably drawn to its complement, I close the remainder of the distance between us. Until we’re inches apart, so close I can see the faint scar above her eyebrow and another trailing along the line of her jaw.
I hate those scars. Not because of how they look, but because I’d put money on them not being accidental. And while I know scars are a known risk when you’re Special Forces—more like a given, honestly—the thought of it happening to Yara is unacceptable.
Oblivious to my thoughts, Yara asks, “You didn’t mind helping me in the workshop?”
“Of course not. I really enjoyed it. What you do… It’s fascinating.”
Pink rises on her cheeks. “You think so?”
“Yara. How could I not?” My hand comes to her cheek of its own accord. She tilts her head back to look at me, an unreadable emotion working in her eyes. “I always like hearing about what you do. But seeing it in person? Shit, it’s incredible. You—”