He sat there on the bed, taking the blows that she directed towards his body. She was pissed and they hurt, but he would take whatever she could dish out.
“Stop making decisions for me, I am my own person and I can make my own decisions," she cried out, pushing him back on the bed where he landed with a thump.
“Then start making them," he goaded her.
She realized he was right. She hadn't made any kind of decision really without talking it over with someone since her attack. Doc Jones, him, Denise. Someone always had to be a sounding board before she made her decision or plan of attack. It stopped tonight, it stopped right now.
“What are you doing?" he asked as he caught the glint of defiance in her eyes.
“Making my own decision," she thrust the words out at him.
He watched as she kic
