It was one of the many reasons that drew them together, and why his son got so pissed because of how close they had become.
“You know that’s not fair.”
Preacher cursed as he saw the tears in Robin’s eyes. She looked away from him, storming out of the kitchen.
Of course, him trying to trigger her memory could also result in her hating him, which he hoped to avoid, but it seemed he had a knack for doing it anyway. Preacher followed her out of the kitchen. She was making her way toward the stairs and he caught her arm.
She pulled out of his touch, folding her arms across her chest and closing him off. “Okay, I know I was an asshole and I can see that now.”
“You only know it now?” she asked.
“That was … insensitive. I’m sorry.”
She pressed her lips together and wouldn’t look at him. He hated this silence more than anything else. “Robin?”
“It’s fine. It’s what you feel, and I’ve got to learn to respect what you feel, right? No matter how I feel about it.”
This wasn’t what he expected and now, he felt like a fucking asshole even more. He knew he could be one, but when it came to Robin, he’d always been more than patient. She’d been through a lot. “I just don’t believe you need to go out and get any kind of work.”
She shook her head. “I’m not asking your permission.”
“Yeah, you are, and I’m not granting it.”
“Preacher, I’m not a child. You can’t keep treating me like one. I’m certainly not your child.”
She ran fingers through her hair and he watched her pull away from him and start to pace up and down the kitchen.
This wasn’t the topic of conversation.
“It’s only for a couple of hours a day at the library. I need something to fill my day.”
“What about shopping?”
“Women like to shop.”
“And was this something I did prior to being lost?”
“I … no…”
“Then what makes you think I want to shop now?”
“I don’t know. You’ll be free to do it.”
“Why are you so against me having a job?” she asked. “I thought about this long and hard. I would be surrounded by books all day long. I won’t have to worry about many fights. It means I can do something about my day, which means I’m not sitting around thinking about everything I haven’t done and can’t remember. Do you know how hard it is to know there are eighteen years of my life I don’t remember? I can spell, count, and remember everything else but any personal little details, it’s all gone.”
“I want to do something with my day besides sitting around. Is that too much to ask? You know what, I’m not asking you, Preacher. I’m telling you. I’ve already taken the job at the library, and you’re not going to stop me.”
She took a step toward him, the steel in her gaze clear. She wouldn’t budge on this, and he didn’t want to force her to give up something she loved. “Is it really that important to you?”
“Then consider me giving you permission.”
She chuckled. “I told you I wasn’t taking your permission.”
“It has been given regardless.” He pushed some of her hair off her shoulder. He was already thinking of the men he could put on her protection detail without her even knowing it was happening. “I’ve never dated a librarian.”
“According to you, you’ve never dated. Unless you count me, of course?”
“Yeah, this is you.” He leaned down, brushing his lips across hers. “You gave me this information because you’ve got to work today, when you know I’m heading out of town.”
“Maybe. I’m heading over to see my dad later tonight. We’re going to have dinner. Did we always have dinner?”
“You were close with Bear, but not this close. Not dinner close. He spent a lot of time at the club.”
“Ah, I see.” She ran her hands down his leather cut. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’m going to miss you too. In fact, I’m missing you already.” He tilted her chin back and stared into her eyes. “You don’t have to work, you know that?”
“I can’t go to school.”
“You still need to graduate.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know if I want to.”
“This is confusing. Graduating is part of who you are.”
“And … I don’t know.”
“What’s really bothering you when it comes to graduating?” he asked. “I know that look. There’s something else on your mind.”
“There’s a lot I can’t remember and I guess I’m worried that I won’t remember everything from before.” She stepped back. “If graduating is really important to me, I want to have the best kind of chance and the only way to do that is to, you know, remember everything.”
“What if you don’t?”
“Then I guess I’ll never graduate. Is that a problem?”
“You’re an intelligent woman. You could pass anything.”