Page 52 of Entangled
His dismissal makes me want to punch something.
Instead, I climb into the back of his truck. “I don’t know what your problem is, but the mood swing bullshit is getting old.” I stop directly in front of him. “Did I do something to piss you off?”
“No,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not you. It’s me.”
“Now,that’san original one.” I roll my eyes at his cop-out response. “I must’ve imagined our connection.”
His gaze snaps to mine. “No. You didn’t imagine it.”
“Then what the hell’s your problem?”
“Thank you for shoveling. Makes my job easier.”
“Answer the fucking question, Henry.”
He stares at my face for what feels like an eternity. “I don’t like to share.”
It takes a moment for his words to sink in, and when they do, I want to kick myself for not figuring it out sooner. It all makes sense now. He’s jealous.
“You’re referring to my side job?” In typical Henry fashion, he stays silent, but his conflicted expression tells me I hit the nail on the head. I step closer to him. “What makes you think you’re sharing?”
He narrows his eyes. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“No, I’m not. I want to understand what’s going through your head. Because Iknowyou were right there with me last night. Then it was like a switch flipped. Why?” When he doesn’t answer I grip the front of his jacket. “Did you think it was all an act or something?”
“Wasn’t it?” Pain flares in his eyes. “Isn’t that what you do for all the other men?”
Bingo.
“No, Henry. I perform for them. Nothing about last night was a performance. I only do what I do because I’m fucking lonely, and dancing provides the companionship I crave. It makes me feel connected. Now that we’ve gotten to know each other, I don’t want to dance for anyone but you.” I tighten my grip on his jacket. “You’re the only connection I need.”
I watch as realization dawns in his thick head.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he shuffles awkwardly and runs both hands over his face. “Shit,” he mutters, releasing a heavy sigh. “Fucking fuck.”
“Not the response I was looking for, but I’m beginning to get used to that with you.”
His gaze snaps to mine, regret twisting his expression. “I’m sorry for being an asshole.”
“Which time?” I chirp, still salty over his moodiness.
“All of them.” He clenches his jaw. “I guess my divorce made me more insecure than I realized.”
“You think?”
He touches my cheek. “It’s not your fault. It wasn’t fair of me to project that shit onto you.”
“No, it wasn’t, but I understand why you’d feel insecure. Would it help if I quit?”
“I can’t ask you to do that,” he murmurs, shaking his head. His eyes meet mine once more and the longing in them hits me in the chest. “But I wouldn’t hate it if you did.”
“It’s settled, then. I’ll call Esme on Monday to resign.”
“Rowan, I’m sorry. I—”
I hold up my finger to silence him. “You can make it up to me with a hug.”
“That, I can definitely do.” He wraps his huge arms around me and pulls me close.
