Well, shit.
Running a hand through my not-just-fucked hair, I groan and stare at the bathroom door.
Forty-five minutes.
The first fifteen minutes were spent with me begging her to open the door and to let me talk to her. The last half hour, I’ve only been listening. And waiting.
She’ll have to come out sooner or later and when she does, I’ll be the one to catch her.
Her crying has long since turned from sobs to sniffles, and now to silence.
“I’ll have to start charging you by the hour,” I tease, but anxiety infects my veins and I press my forehead to the cold wood of the door silently praying she’ll answer.
When I’m met with silence again, I stalk down the hallway and pick up my phone. A short while later, I’ve ordered pizza and am back at the door.
I try a different tactic. “Tori, if you don’t open the door, I’ll break it down.”
Shuffling noises resound on the other side and I grin at the prospect of her unlocking the door. Instead, I’m met with attitude.
“Leave me alone, Chase. I want to go home but I don’t want to see you. Not like this,” she snips out in what must feel like an angry bite to her. To me, the sadness in her words is almost palpable. I want to reach out and grab them. Clutch them to me and hold them.
“Babe, you need—”
“I. Am. Not. Your. Babe,” she hisses through the door.
With a resigned sigh, I decide to do what I promised myself forty-five minutes ago I wouldn’t do. Stalking toward my toolbox in the living room, I grumble at the idea of damaging my door frame.
I locate my flathead screwdriver and storm back to the bathroom.
“Last chance, Tori. Open the door.”
Silence.
“Suit yourself,” I huff.
Jamming the flat end of the screwdriver between the door and the frame near the doorknob, I yank it until the wood splinters and cracks.
“What are you doing?” she snaps through the door.
Set on my task, I jimmy it some more until light briefly peeks through. With one heave of my shoulder, it cracks the frame enough to free the door. I stumble inside to find her sitting on the lid of the toilet, still donning her adorable painting outfit.
The woman looks good in just about anything but wearing my clothes—that’s just fucking hot as hell. Inside me, the alpha roars with pride at seeing her in my clothes, as if she’s marked with my scent.
Her eyes are open wide in shock. “You broke your door!”
Smirking at her, I shrug my shoulders. “I’ve done worse. Are you hungry?”
Not giving Tori the chance to think is what’s gotten me as far as I have with her. And now, as I change the subject of her breakdown which resulted in locking herself in my bathroom for an hour, she falters and shakes her head. “No, I, uh… need to go.”
She stands but I lean against the broken door frame and inspect her tear-stained, swollen red face. Blonde hairs are an unkempt mess and my fingers twitch to free the rest of them. The woman is even more beautiful than when she’s all put together, wreaking havoc on the poor souls who cross her.
“You’re not going anywhere until I feed you,” I tell her in a firm tone and take a step toward her.
She eyes me warily but doesn’t move. Seeing my opportunity, I don’t waste any more time and prowl the rest of the way over to her. Her hands go up in protest, but I encircle her waist with mine and haul her to me. When she’s plastered against my chest—where she belongs—I hug her to me and kiss the top of her head.
Despite her earlier freak-out, she melts in my arms and rests her cheek on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” she barely manages through an emotional whisper.
Shaking my head, I stroke her back. “Nothing to be sorry for.”
We remain in silence and then I decide to take those damn pins out of her hair. At first, when I begin pulling them out, she struggles in my arms. Eventually, though, she resigns herself to letting me take them out.
“I want to see you,” I murmur. Both inside and out.
She tugs away from me and regards me with tears welling in her eyes. “This isn’t me,” she tries to explain.
But it is.
This is the part of her that claws to be released, yet the Ice Queen keeps her shackled in the recesses of her mind.
Pulling her back to me, I then slide my palms up her neck and tilt her head up so I can see her better.
“Nobody can be strong all of the time. That’s why it’s in our human nature to seek another soul out there. Someone to be strong some of the time for us. Someone to share our burdens with,” I whisper, stroking each of her cheeks with my thumbs.
Her icy blue eyes shine like the bluest of seas. One day, I hope to take her to an exotic beach in the Caribbean just to see if it will dull the beauty of the ocean by being in direct comparison to the unmatched splendor that are her incredibly expressive eyes.
“You make me weak,” she breathes out, her sweet scent teasing me with my mouth just inches from hers.
Dipping my nose to hers, I graze it with mine. “I’m here to carry you.”
“What if I don’t want to be carried?” she mutters and her eyes flutter closed.
I don’t answer her and seal my lips against hers, kissing her with a softness that I hope conveys my promise to help her. A small moan escapes, and it’s far from sexual. It’s a moan releasing some of her strength—letting me be strong for her. Drawing her closer to me, I deepen our kiss, tangling my tongue with hers. Her fingers clutch onto my shirt, begging me not to let go.
I’m not ever going to fucking let go.
“Chase,” she mutters between kisses.
The sound is innocent and young. I want to protect her and hold her close to me without any desire to ever let go.
“I’m scared.”
This confuses me so I break from her and press a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. “Why are you scared, Tori?”
She sniffles but her hands trail up my chest to where she clutches onto my neck. “I’ve always been strong. For them. To keep their memory buried deep in my heart where it’s safe.”
I narrow my eyes at her and wait for her to continue, stealing another peck on her cheek.
“If I open myself up, give you part of my burden…” she trails off with a shudder, as if the very idea frightens her, “…I might lose them forever. What if it makes me forget? What I had with them? I don’t think there’s room for anything else. I’m so sorry.”
Her words gut me, but I won’t be deterred. She’s mine as far as I’m concerned. Nobody, not even Stalking Savvy, has ever come close to understanding my pain. Crushing loss. Self-loathing. Guilt and a desire to change the past—to reweave the threads of time and create a new masterpiece that includes them.
Tori gets my pain.
I get Tori’s pain.
Every Tuesday when I go visit the cemetery, I kick trees and punish the earth with my fists. I cry out to God and beg for him to rewind time. To give her a second chance at life.
Life’s not fair.
Mother’s words haunt me like always.
“Tori,” I press my lips to hers and then pull away to stare at her with a glare that expresses that I will not let her give up on me. “Sometimes being strong for the other person means determining what’s best for them, even when they think they know best. You’re already used to me manhandling you…”
She pops her mouth open to argue but I dive in for a kiss that I drain all of my passion and determination into. I need her to feel my strength—a strength I didn’t even know I possessed.
“…now it’s time for me to manhandle your heart.”
The doorbell rings and I reluctantly tear away from her. Her eyes are flitting about with a thousand thoughts dancing in her head.
“Jesus, Tori,” I chuckle in a way meant to poke at her. “Is that how you show up to all your dinner dates? Maybe you should put something more presentable on before we have dinner.”
Her more comfortable emotion, the feisty one that I love, rises to the surface and she flips me off. But it serves to break the thick tension.
“Asshole. I’m probably the best-looking date you’ve ever had,” she teases back with a smile, “even in this get-up.”
I wink at her. “There’s no denying that, baby. We both know who the good looking one in this relationship is.”
Before she can argue that I just declared us to be in a relationship, I bounce out of the small bathroom and trot to the front door to pay for the pizza.
I’ll fill that girl up one way or another.
Her belly.
Her heart.
And maybe a few other places too if I’m lucky.
Last night, Tori and I made great strides. The rest of the evening went on without a hitch. I think I’m growing on her. She let me steal kisses but I didn’t once try and push her for more. It was evident she was punishing herself for letting things progress. I don’t want her to regret anything when it comes to us. If that means going slower, then I’ll become a turtle.
A very handsy turtle that likes his tongue down her throat.
But a turtle nevertheless.
“Dr. Monroe,” a voice chirps, stealing me from my thoughts of Tori.
“Mmm?”
Mack plops down beside me at the table in the Media Center. It’s Wednesday and their projects are due this coming Friday. By the frustrated scowl on his face, I’d say he’s having issues.
“This sucks.”
I bellow with laughter but when the attendant at the desk shoots me a scathing look, I choke it back. “Of course it sucks. It’s a research paper. Research papers suck.”
He groans and shoves his paper at me. “How much more work do I have on this? I don’t think it’s good enough.”
I take it from him and spend the next few minutes reading through. In all honesty, he’s done an excellent job tackling the subject I warned them not to choose. I’d give him an A for the paper.
“It’s worth a low B,” I lie and shove it back across the table to him.
“Well, shit. Bs won’t get me the job at the hospital. What do I need to work on?”
Mack’s a great student despite his cutting up most of the time. “Research some more. Add some more citations. It could use a bit more meat.”
He nods, and with a new determination that will serve him well in his career, he bounds off, back toward the computers to continue his research.
“You lie for shit,” Cort laughs and sits next to me.
I shrug my shoulders. “It’s good for him. Did you finish yours?”
He nods. “Yep, but you don’t get it until it’s due. Unlike Mack over there, I know my paper is an A and I’m not letting you con me into doing more busy work.”
I chuckle and am on the receiving end of another nasty look from the attendant. With apologetic hands, I raise them and mouth I’m sorry to her. Her clipped nod indicates she accepts my apology but not to do it again or she’ll shove a dictionary up my ass.
“How’s the new chick?”
I’ve told him a little about Tori but didn’t want to divulge much. She still feels like my little secret. Just like my group. I want to protect and defend her against any would-be naysayers.
Not that Cort would ever have anything negative to say.
“Her name’s Tori,” I remind him, “and she’s special.”
“Like Savvy special?” he questions with a groan.
I hold back the eruption of laughter so I can keep my asshole a virgin. “No, you idiot. Special like could-be-the-one, special.”
His eyes widen in shock. “Well, I’ll be damned. Someone was up for the Chase after all.”
I beam at him and thread my fingers together behind my head, leaning back in my chair. Staring up at the ceiling I think of her sweet, swollen lips. The way she came apart in my arms from the simplest friction between us. If only she knew…I had so much more in my arsenal to make her feel again.
“Quite the opposite, man,” I sigh. “I’m doing all the chasing.”
“And she’s worth the Chase?”
Turning my head to him, I grin. “She’s worth every damn second.”
“Dr. Monroe,” Mrs. Schrage gasps when I saunter into her flower shop after class. “It’s Wednesday. I think.”
I chuckle because after years and years of coming here every Tuesday like clockwork, I’m sure she’s confused as to why I’m here on a Wednesday. Especially after having just been here yesterday.
“I need flowers. Happy ones. Ones that say, ‘You’re always on my mind and are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.’ Maybe some blue ones.”
She widens her eyes. Normally when I come in here, she has my order ready and we don’t converse much. Tuesdays usually leave me in a shitty mood and I’m sure it’s felt by all. Seeing me chipper probably sends more confusion bouncing around in her head.
“Um, well, let’s see. We have some tulips in your favorite color,” she starts but I wave her off.
“I want blue today.”
“Right, okay, well, we just had a shipment of the most gorgeous irises delivered today. Would you care to see them?”
I nod and lean against the counter while she shuffles off. Snatching a card from the rack, I scribble out a note to Tori.
Have dinner with me, beautiful. I hope these flowers brighten your day and you think of me no matter how hard you try not to. Pick you up at six. For the love of God, wear jeans woman. —C—
“Ahh,” Mrs. Schrager chirps, “here they are and they smell lovely.”
The moment I lay eyes on the dainty, blue flowers, I smile. They’ll compliment her bright blue eyes perfectly and hopefully bring a smile to her soft, pouty lips.
“I’ll take them.”