Childish Tantrum

Childish Tantrum
Amelia’s POV
“Collins, I don’t need a bodyguard,” my voice was sharp, cutting through the uneasy silence. “I’ve said this before, that I don’t need somebody on my back every time I go out. I’m not that person.”
He leaned against the back of his chair, his starched white shirt taut across his wide chest, and crossed his arms. “Amelia, we’re not asking your opinion about this. Your safety is not up for grabs.”
“Non-negotiable?” I laughed, grabbing onto the table for support. “You’re not going to tell me what to do! I’m not a baby, and I’m not your captive!”
A shadow of irritation clouded his eyes and he shook his head. “Why are you so unreasonable? You’re being a baby, Amelia. This is for your safety, not about telling you what to do.”
His words felt like a slap. Childish? Unreasonable? I felt a blur in my vision as my eyes stung with tears, but I wouldn't let them fall. Not in front of him. Not with him staring at me like some out of line child having a tantrum. I banged my hands on the table, the dishes clattered, and shoved my chair back with a screech.
“Fine! Fine, if I’m such a little kid, then suck on it by yourself!” I snapped, my voice cracking. Before he could reply, I whirled around, and walked out the door, my feet slapping across the wood in an angry scatter as I raced up the stairs. Halfway up to my room, the tears I had fought so hard to hold violently broke free, and I dragged myself down across my bed and buried my face in the pillow. The soft cloth shut out the sound of my sobs, but it couldn’t silence the pain in my heart.
Why did everything have to be so difficult with him? Why had he needed to be all gentlemanly and shit, with me, like he’d thought I was somehow breakable, like I couldn’t fucking handle myself? I had fought my way through everything and now, I was married to him and he was here making me feel small again. I curled up, back against the bed and cried hot, and steady tears.
The door groaned open behind me, but I didn’t look back. I knew it was him. The bed dipped as he sat behind me, then he wrapped this arms around me, strong and warm, drawing me against his chest. I wriggled, pushed at him, and halfheartedly bashed his forearms with my fists. “Let go, Collins! I don’t want you here!”
But he pulled me closer, his breath hot in my ear. “Amelia, stop. Please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
He spoke softly, so full of tenderness that it ached inside my chest again. I thrashed more and my sobs hitched, but his hold was firm, solid, keeping me down when all I wanted to do was escape. “You called me childish!” I gasped, my voice smothered by the pillow. “You think I’m a pain in the ass, don’t you? If I’m so much trouble, why did you marry me? Why put up with me at all?”
He went very still and his arms slackened enough to feel the change in his breath. “Amelia,” he said, his voice aching and hollow. “Don’t say that. You know that’s not true.”
“Then why?” I turned in his grasp, facing him, my tear streaked face just inches from his. His stormy dark eyes brimmed with something I couldn’t identify—regret perhaps, or fear. “Why do you always act like I can’t help myself? Like I’m going to break? If you feel like I’m a psycho, maybe we shouldn’t even be together. Maybe I ought to divorce you and — ”
The words were hardly out of my mouth when his hand rocketed out and cupped my face, his teeth sinking into the side of my cheek— not enough to draw blood, but needle sharp that I let out a yelp. “Collins!” I cried out, pushing at his chest as pain seared across my skin. My hand went up to my temple, and I felt the hot, tender place where he’d bitten me.
He sighed, leaning down again to put his hand on my cheek, his fingers softly stroking the bruised skin. “I’m so, so sorry,” he murmured, his voice heavy with guilt. “I shouldn’t have done that. I just… I got angry. You can’t talk about divorce, Amelia. Not like that.”
I looked at him through my tears, my cheek pounding at his touch. “You bit me!” I said, my voice laced with pain. “You’re such a jerk!”
“I know, I know,” said his thumb, absently clearing away a tear. “I’m a jerk. “But I’m a jerk and I’m scared to lose you.” His expression grew serious, and he dragged his head forward, touching foreheads with me. “You’re going back to the city in a couple of days. School’s beginning and your life is going to change. You’re no longer just Amelia — you’re my wife. That changes things. There are people who would want to harm you in order to reach me, and I can’t allow that to happen.”
I sniffed, “Like who? Jenny?” 
“Among others,” he said. “I’m working on something tiny here, something so private — real in our bubble. It’s going to make a scene, and I need to know you’re okay. That’s why I need the bodyguard. Not because control freak, but because I can’t lose you Amelia. I won’t.”
His words seeped into me, thick and warm, coating and absorbing the roughness of my hurt. I burped another hiccup, my fingers gripping his shirt. “You could’ve just told me that,” I murmured, voice tiny. “Instead of calling me childish.
He laughed softly, the deep sound vibrating through his chest. “You’re right. I was an idiot. Forgive me?”
I paused, my cheek smarting, but it was impossible to ignore the earnestness in his eyes. “You have to say you’re sorry the right way,” I pouted. “And… I know I was wrong too. I never should have run off like that. I know you’re trying to keep me safe, but I just… I hate feeling that I’m not in control.
“I know,” he said, pressing his arms around me. “I’ll do better. We can sort this out together can’t we? No more fighting.”
I nodded, and burrowed closer to him, the final tears that I had left sinking into my skin. “Okay,” I whispered. “But you owe me for the bite.”
He laughed out loud now, and placed a soft kiss on my forehead. “Deal.”
For a moment, we held one another that way, tangled in each other’s arms, the storm between us transforming into something softer. Energetically, he lifted me up and took my full hand in his. “Come on,” he said. “The bodyguard’s downstairs. You should meet her.”
I groaned and followed him, my cheek still aching as we glided down the banister. A woman in her late twenties stood in the living room with an easy, alert posture and dark hair swept back into a clean ponytail. She was in a nondescript black blazer and jeans. She looked even more nondescript in real life than I would have thought. She faced me when we entered, her piercing green eyes taking me in with a small smile.
“Amelia, this is Elena,” Collins said, with his hand hovering at my lower back. “She was military, hell of a good trainee, and she’ll be your shadow — on the down low.”
Elena reached out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Amelia. I promise I won’t hover. No one will even know I’m around unless you need me.”
I reached to shake her hand, and give her a shake. She sounded sincere, and I found it a relief that she was so composed. “Okay,” I said cautiously. “Just as long as you’re not, you know, breathing down the back of my neck.”
She laughed, a slow, and casual sound. “Deal.” Her eyes flicked over to my cheek, where Collins’s bite had left a faint red mark. She arched an eyebrow, her smile becoming teasing. “Rough morning?”
My face heated up and I whirled round to shoot an annoyed glance at Collins, who had the audacity to grin. “Bastard!” I grumbled, my tone sharp but drenched with grudging affection.