A low voice broke the silence beside me, making me jump. “Mind explaining what you’re doing out here?”
I whirled, shoulders sagging in relief when I met familiar green eyes staring down at me. Then I noted his rigid stature, arms tight over his chest, and the feeling was gone. I frowned. “Not at all. I was bored. Now shoo.”
Tarik’s left brow ticked upward as he slowly uncrossed his arms. “Bored? Shoo? Did you forget that the shifter circling above us is looking for you? And don’t forget what he’ll do if he finds you.” A deep crease formed between his brows at that.
My teeth ground together. “Thanks for the reminder, I’d completely forgotten. But I’ve been out here for a couple hours, and I’m still alive. You did your duty, I’m clearly safe. You can leave again.” I held my ground even as my chest tightened, sliding past him to take advantage of a break in Alec’s circles. I crept closer to the Safehouse. Tarik’s footsteps trailed me though, and I sighed.
“You can’t waltz around this city thinking no one will recognize you,” he said. “There’s a reward. Even people you thought you could trust might turn you in for a few coins. Think, Reagan. You’re not safe on these streets, not even in the Fae district.”
My emotions spiraled through a quick one-eighty. Arrogant, irritating prick. He only ever showed up when he felt like it. Or when I was in peril, like he could sense I was in danger, like he gravitated to trouble. Well I sure as hell wasn’t going to play his damsel in distress. I could see the last building before the Safehouse now—so close.
Pausing, I debated the cost before I snapped, “All I’ve done for days is think, Tarik. I can’t sit around by myself all the time. I’m bored and miserable. But then again, I guess the only way you’d notice something so trivial is if I managed to be in danger at the same time.”
Conflict roiled in my stomach. Part of me wanted to ask why he only showed up when I needed him. Why not before, why not after? I inhaled, then blew out a breath to expel my growing nausea.
When I moved forward again, he doggedly followed me, a splash of annoyance coloring his words now. “You have Nevaeh. And I’ve seen how several of the Fae children in the Safehouse respond to you. I do notice. But I’m . . . busy.”
I sighed. Relentless, and missing the point. Why couldn’t he leave me alone? Hell, I should have stayed in the Safehouse. He definitely wouldn’t have bothered me there. I could have shut down my riotous emotions, turned off the feelings that bloomed in my stomach whenever he was near. Tarik was pain—and trouble—waiting to happen. And if I had stayed behind, I could have started to repair the damage he had already caused.
Instead of saying any of that, though, I said, “I love the children, but I can’t sit and wait for you all to take care of my family problems.” I snorted at the thought of Mordecai and Alec actually being my family, but pressed on. “Even Nevaeh has things to do. I’m dead weight. So I found a way to help. But I mean, you’re right. At least she’s spoken to me. Busy or not.”
Behind me, he sighed—or huffed. I couldn’t tell. “Let Rebel Leader deal with your family. That’s what we’ve been working so tirelessly on. If you need something to do, ask and we’ll put you to work. Somewhere safe.” He paused, and I thought he was done, then, “I wanted to talk to you, but . . . I can’t.”
I froze, hung up on his emphasis of the word safe. That was the problem, though. Safe didn’t fix problems. I didn’t want to be safe if that meant hiding away, locked in a cage. I shivered, carefully considering my words. Replaying his vague excuse. Finally, I shook my head in frustration. “Nah. Not today, Tarik. I’m not playing this game with you anymore.”
I slipped over the last little gap to safety and slid inside, slamming the door behind me. My heart thundered in my ears, my breathing uneven. I couldn’t keep riding his emotional teeter totter. If I caved today, the back and forth would never end.
The door whooshed open and in stormed a scowling Tarik. He marched up, glaring down his nose at me. “Did you seriously slam the door in my face? What game are you playing at? Because I’m supposed to be the one with the nasty temper, not you.”
“I don’t play games, Tarik. That’s why this stupid little back and forth we do? I’m done playing.”
Shock morphed his expression and he took a step back. “What?”
“This thing we have going on”—I gestured between us, ignoring the burn behind my eyes—“is harmful and unhealthy. I’m done. With it. With you. Done.”
He straightened, shoulders stiffening. For several seconds he simply blinked as if dazed, then slowly said, “I don’t—There’s nothing going on, Reagan.”
“I—” My voice caught and, unbidden, tears slipped free. I furiously wiped them away and clenched my jaw.
After a moment, words spilled from me, angry and raw. “You heard me. I can’t do this. I can’t have you ignore me for days at a time because you don’t know what you want from me. I can’t have you showing up in my life when the timing is convenient, or when you think you can save me. And to what end? Because it suits your fancy? Or because you’re worried, whatever that means to you. You pull me close and push me away in the same breath, and here we are
