They definitely hadn’t taken it easy on her. Had she not even been allowed a bucket to piss in? Christ. Tristan walked in behind them, bogged down with all the bags, glaring at me as he dropped them on the floor.
“You’re the biggest of all of us, and yet you only carried two bags inside?” he asked.
“I was taking on all the risk of being attacked as the first one inside,” I answered with a smirk I knew would piss him off. “I needed my hands.” I shrugged.
He watched as Seb adjusted his grip on Scar’s body before they walked up the skinny flight of stairs. The house wasn’t anything like the manor or the loft. It wasn’t some big ostentatious show of wealth. From the outside, it looked like your normal family home. But what no one could see was how it had a fortress of a basement and cameras that covered every angle, inside and out.
“You’re trying to make this as hard as possible on everyone, aren’t you?” Tristan asked as he shut the door.
“I’m keeping my distance and therefore my fucking sanity. I can’t be around Seb when he’s like this.”
“You mean you can’t be around her when she’s like this.” He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed as he walked towards the back of the house.
He was right. I couldn’t be around her when she looked at me like she had when we saved her.
She looked at me like I’d hung the damn moon. I couldn’t stand to see her have any sort of affection for me. Not when I was still worried she could be a plant. She had started to get under my skin before she disappeared, and when I saw her in Tristan’s arms coming from the basement, I could feel that relief all too easily.
If I got close to her now that we had her back, I’d cave. I needed to stay cold and distant and keep my eyes open for the next thing to come our way. I sighed, resisting the urge to punch a hole in the wall, and made my way to the garage to take my aggression out in the gym before I took it out on her.