She took a breath, trembling slightly, and waited for him to throw her out. She shouldn’t have said half of those things, but he was a very frustrating man, and she was tired of holding back when it came to frustrating men.

His brow crinkled, and he stared at the brace imprisoning his leg. “This is not the worst thing that has ever happened to me. But it is close.” He shook his head and looked away. “Talking about feelings is not the Russian way. It is not the fighter’s way either.”

She stayed quiet, letting him talk. This was the most communicative he’d been since she’d arrived.

His arms were outstretched on the chair, and he flexed his hands into fists. “The answer is, it doesn’t.”

She tilted her head. “What doesn’t?”

“My decision to quit. It doesn’t square with the man people think I am. But that man…” He swallowed once and seemed to be collecting his thoughts. “That man isn’t really me.”

“Then who are you?”

He let out a long, slow breath. “I do not know anymore.”

Her heart clenched at the sadness in his voice. She hadn’t imagined how deeply this injury had affected him. It was staggering. Especially because of her part in it. In that moment, there was nothing she wanted more than to genuinely help him. “Maybe we can figure it out together.”

He didn’t say anything. Just sat there. Grom shoved his head under one of Van’s big hands, looking for attention. Van scratched the dog, and Monalisa found an opening.

“Why did you adopt Grom?”

“Because I am settling down. And I always wanted a dog. They’re loyal.”

“And loyalty means a lot to you?”

He met her gaze again. “Without loyalty, what is there?”

She nodded. “Then you’ve been planning on settling down. This fight wasn’t really the cause of it.”

“I wasn’t planning on it this soon.”

Finally, they were having a real conversation. “Did you like fighting?”

“For a creature like myself, fighting is like breathing. I was born for it. Not because I am an angry man, or because I want to cause pain or destroy things, but because I am a dragon. We are protectors.”

“What were you protecting by fighting in the League?”

“My name. My rank. My people.” He put his thumb between Grom’s eyes and rubbed, sending the dog into a heavy-lidded state of bliss. “Can you understand that?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure.”

He looked at her. “Think about how your parents protected you growing up. That instinct is the same in me. Just with a different focus.”

She laughed bitterly and glanced away. If he only knew the truth.

“Why does that make you laugh?” he asked.

“No reason.”

“I answered your questions. You answer mine.”

She stared at the notebook in her lap. “Let’s just say protecting me wasn’t high on my parents’ to-do list and leave it at that.”

He was quiet a moment. “I am sorry. No child should feel that way about the people who gave them life.”

She forced a smile as she looked up. “Yes, well, we all have our burdens to bear, don’t we?” She cleared the emotion from her throat and brought the conversation back around to him. “If you feel that way about fighting, why not heal from this injury and then come back stronger than ever? Why not accept this rematch and show the world it was just a fluke?”

Something flickered in his gaze. He put his hands on the arms of the chair and pushed himself up, grabbing his crutch as he did so. “How much walking until you’re happy?”

Van stood on the porch. He didn’t want to think about anything but walking. One foot in front of the other. And he would do it until Lisa was satisfied. Then he was going into his office, shutting the door, and working on his accent until it was time to get ready for Pandora’s housewarming party. And if his accent magically righted itself before it was time to get ready, he’d play solitaire. Or start tweeting. Or watch cat videos.

Anything to be done with today’s therapy.

He was about to get the walking underway when the door behind him opened and Lisa came out. He glanced over his shoulder, wondering if she was going to keep up with the questions while he exercised, but she was no longer carrying her notebook. “I know how to walk.”

She crossed her arms. “So let’s see.”

He started forward, more to put space between them than anything else.

“Nope.”

He stopped. “I am walking wrong?”

She came side by side with him. “You’re using the crutch.”

“Because I must.”

“Not for therapy to work. Remember the old stationary bike? You need to start bending your knee. It will hurt, but it will help work the venom out quicker. And that means you’ll heal faster.”

“I am wearing a brace.”

“And yet, I know you can bend if you want to. You did it in the kitchen when you tried to help me up.”

He stifled the urge to roll his eyes. “That hurt as much as it did because I was fighting against the brace.”

She pursed her lips. They were full and pouty and only inches away, making it difficult for him to look at anything else. “I’m pretty sure that brace is adjustable. Let me check.”

She crouched at his side to examine the brace.