"I want you with me," I mutter, trying to ignore the twinge of hurt over the fact that she doesn't want to move in with me. I can't rush her. She needs time, and I know that. But I've never slept as peacefully as I did with her in my arms last night. Now that I've had it, I don't want to give it up. Don't want to go backwards when every fiber of my being demands we move forward. Moving in. Marriage. Babies.
"We barely know each other."
My brows snap together. "I know you well enough to know how you sound when you're coming all over me."
"That's not what I meant."
"No?"
She sighs into the phone. "You can't just bulldoze your way into my life, Killian. You can't make decisions for me and just expect me to fall in line. I'm not one of your soldiers."
Jesus. Is that what she thinks I'm doing? Bulldozing my way into her life? Trying to force her into more than she's ready to give me?
Have I been doing that?
I think back over the last two days, all the demands I've made. Telling her what's going to happen between us, telling her to stop overthinking it. Deciding when she eats and when she works and where she works.
Fuck.
Maybe I have been too demanding, trying to force her where I want her even while trying to convince myself that I'm giving her time. Making decisions is what I do. I don't spend a lot of time thinking things through or talking it out. I do what needs to be done. It's what I've always done, but this is different.
She's different. She's used to taking care of herself, of being the only one who decides her future. I can't just expect that to change overnight because I'm in love with her. If I want her to realize she loves me too, I have to back off and give her space.
"You're right," I mutter, blowing out a breath. "The choice should be yours."
"Killian–"
"I'll back off."
"Killian, that's not wha–"
"When you're ready, we'll talk about it. But not until." I glance at my watch, realize that I'm already running behind. "I need to go check on some shit. Your breakfast is on your desk when you get here. Drive safe."
"Okay," she whispers. There's something in her tone, but she disconnects before I have a chance to figure out what it is or what it means.
I tip my head back and curse. I hate knowing that she feels like I'm bulldozing my way into her life. I want to give her everything she's ever wanted, make her happy. Clearly, I'm not off to a great start. I need to regroup and make a new plan. Because now that I've had her, there's no way I can let her go.
I survived an IED blast and warzones. Epidemics and terrorists. I've been to hell and walked out alive. But there's no fucking way I'll survive without her. I'm so in love with her it's almost painful. Letting her go now isn't an option. So I need to figure out how to make her happy. Because her being unhappy isn't feeling much like an option either.
In fact, it's feeling pretty goddamn intolerable from where I'm standing.