Page 35 of Ruthless Salvation
“Just be you,” I whispered. “That’s all I want. You and me together.”
Present
Not yet.
I felt those two words like a fist straight to my solar plexus. I’d been so winded that I hadn’t tried to stop her from walking away. She genuinely expected me to hurt her in one way or another.
Can you blame her, dickhead? Look at you. Think about the message you’ve been sending.
Being the man I’d been had always served me well. It kept people at a distance, just as I preferred. But I didn’t want Storm to keep her distance. I needed her to know she could trust me.
I was an avid believer that actions speak louder than words. I’d always told myself so long as my actions remained true to who I was, a grizzly exterior wasn’t an issue. But I’d kept the good actions a secret, like getting her building superintendent to do his job and adding extra money to her paycheck and keeping overzealous customers at bay. She couldn’t use them as part of her measure if she never knew that side of me.
In a way, I knew that I’d sabotaged myself on purpose. I hadn’t wanted her to know the little things I’d done to make her life easier because it felt like admitting to weakness. I would expect someone in her position to question my intentions. However, Stormy wasn’t like everyone else. She was always so damn optimistic and gave everyone the benefit of the doubt. Why, if I hadn’t actually done anything to harm her, was she so convinced it was inevitable?
I knew what cynical looked like—I was a goddamn expert—but that was because I had firsthand experience with the ugliest parts of human nature. Could that be true of her as well?
Her freakishly cheery disposition made it hard to reconcile. When human depravity touched a person’s life, it marked them. Tainted the soul.
Storm was too goddamn perfect to be hiding that sort of corruption. Wasn’t she?
My thoughts consumed me throughout the night. I couldn’t be sure about Storm’s past, but I decided the one thing I could do was try to make her understand that she had nothing to fear from me. In the end, if she decided she wanted nothing to do with me, so be it. I could take rejection. What I couldn’t stand was knowing I’d frightened her. That had never been my intention.
I would find a way to prove she could trust me.
And what about you? Are you willing to trusther?
That was another matter entirely.
If you think that’s true, you’re a goddamn moron. How do you expect her to trust if you aren’t willing to do the same?
My palms tingled with a layer of sweat.
Was I actually considering this—letting someone in? How could I not? The thought of allowing Storm to walk away without attempting to change her mind felt like an epic failure. Worse, it reeked of cowardice.
I was no fucking coward.
I stewed in my thoughts and fears for the remaining hour until close. Each minute drew out into eternity until the last of the customers left.
My gut churned. My head pounded.
A small voice in the back of my head begged me to reconsider, but I ignored that little bitch and stood my ground. When Storm came to the front to leave for the night, I met her at the door.
“Can I give you a ride home tonight?”
I wasn’t sure what she heard in my voice, but she took in a slow steady breath and nodded. We went outside to where I parked my bike on the sidewalk. I unclasped the helmet lock and started working on the chin strap.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you ride with a helmet,” she noted thoughtfully.
“Helmet’s not for me.” I swept her hair over her shoulders and placed the helmet on her head.
“You’ve been riding around with it just in case?”
“Didn’t know when you might need a ride. I’m not taking any chances with you,” I murmured, embarrassed at my obvious bout of overprotectiveness.
“Wait.” She stopped me from climbing on. “You got this helmet … just for me … without knowing if you’d even need it?”
“I’m not leaving your safety to chance, Storm.”