Page 70 of Off the Post

I heave a loud sigh the moment he shuts the door and rush toward it to make sure it locks, dropping my forehead against it in relief.

“Shit,” I say, letting out a breath. “That was close.”

When I turn around, I lock eyes with a pale-faced Ali, who has stood up and now lifts her fingertips to graze over her eyebrow.

She eyes me suspiciously and asks, “What exactly did Tanner say about me last night?”

I walk toward her, arms extended, but she sidesteps and whirls around on one heel. She folds her arms around her chest in a protective maneuver.

I snick my teeth.

“Nothing really. just stuff about your ex, which I already knew.” I leave out the other part.

“And?” she prods. Like I said, I’m a terrible liar. It’s the reason I never play poker with the guys.

I unfold her arms and take her hands in mine, tugging her into my chest. Placing a finger underneath her chin, I lift her head and stare down into her doubting eyes.

“Ali, none of what he said changes the way I feel about you or see you.”

Her chin quivers and her lips tremble. I stoop to kiss her gently on the forehead and then the top of her head, breathing in her sweet, lemony scent.

“It was a really bad time in my life, and I’m embarrassed that I allowed it to happen.”

Something in her vulnerability makes me want to open up and share how my brother’s accident tore me apart, and how I’ve never gotten over the grief from losing him.

But I don’t. I hold back for fear she’ll look at me with pity.

Keeping it buried all these years may have cost me parts of myself and left me damaged and broken, but at least it’s protected me. I’ve turned all that pain and loss into a disguise that I wear for the outside world, becoming the lone Wolf that everyone believes me to be. And that’s who I need to stay.

But you need more.

I swallow thickly and clear my throat. “You’re okay now. That’s all that matters.”

Releasing her from my arms, I glance over to the clock on the microwave oven. Ali must be able to read minds; she obviously sees my need for escape and backs away.

“I’m sure you need to get going.”

“Ja. I should go.”

It’s a coward’s move. I gather my clothes and get dressed in her bedroom, all the while telling myself not to go.

Don’t leave, you dummkopf. Let her in. She’s the best thing to happen to you in years.

The words are in my dead brother’s voice.

But do I listen?

No.

Instead, I allow my self-loathing to crowd out the sound guidance and tell myself Ali will be better off if I leave now. Before things go too far. Before our feelings get too deep.

Before I open up and she finds out what kind of person I really am. I’m not the brave, feared wolf that everyone believes me to be.

I’m just a scared, lonely man who would never be good enough for a woman like Ali.

35

Ali