Chapter Eighteen
Jase
I tossed around on the couch, bunching the pillow under my head for the fourth time in as many minutes, trying to get a little more sleep. It was still early. Especially considering how late Dani had finally passed out.
She would have fit easier on the couch than me, but I wanted her to have the bed. Mostly so she’d sleep better, but also so on the unlikely chance last night hadn’t been a false alarm and she did have a stalker, they would have to go through me before getting to her.
The desire to protect her still burned in my chest. She never told me what was written in the note that had been left on her car, but scrolling through some of the comments on her social media had been enough to give me an idea. I wanted to shield her from it. Pull her back into my arms and keep her there so I could block out anything that might harm her.
There was a good chance I was on that list.
I owed her another apology for last week. Probably an explanation too.
Honestly, it was hard to remember my reason for avoiding her when my mind kept wandering back to the thought of her sleeping in my bed. I could practically smell her on my sheets already. Lightly floral with an underlying sweetness I wanted to lick.
My groin ached, and I ran a hand over my face, officially giving up on more sleep. I sat up and scanned the room for Baxter, expecting him to jump on my lap and demand to be fed like he did most mornings at my first signs of stirring.
The morning sun filtered in through the large windows of my living room, brightening the apartment with natural light. No sign of my troublemaking cat, though.
I got to my feet and shuffled down the short hallway toward the bathroom, pausing when I spotted the bedroom door. I must not have closed it all the way last night, because it’d been pushed open, just wide enough for a small feline to squeeze through.
Through the crack, I spotted Dani sound asleep, dark hair peeking up over my gray comforter, one hand resting beside her face on the pillow. Nestled in the crook of her arm was Baxter. He had his head resting below her chin, body splayed along hers, blissed out like it was the only place he wanted to be.
Careful not to make a sound, I took my phone from the pocket of my sweats and snapped a picture.
I wasn’t sure what made me do it. Just that I wanted to be able to look back on this moment and remember this feeling. Like a molten lava cake had split open in my chest, its warmth oozing everywhere. To wake up to this every morning and have the same peace settle over me at the sight.
Only there wouldn’t be an every morning.
Not with her. Not like this.
Just whatever could be captured in a single photo on my phone and the knowledge that it would have to be enough.
By the time Dani emerged from the bedroom, I had banana pancakes keeping warm in the oven, fresh fruit sliced and set out on the island, and eggs cooking in the pan. Mornings were the only time I consistently cooked at home, so while my fridge wasn’t stocked with much else, I had plenty of breakfast foods on hand.
“Smells so good,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.
I fought back a smile. “Coffee?”
“God, yes.” She slid onto a stool as I set up the French press.
“You sleep okay?”
Her eyes were puffy, but she gave a nod. “Mmm, yeah. Baxter’s better than a weighted blanket.”
As if summoned, his furry highness strolled out of the bedroom. He stopped in front of his food bowl and gave a stretch before leveling me with a stare and letting out a demanding meow.
I leaned against the counter and crossed my arms over my chest. “Don’t look at me. You chose her,” I said, nodding at Dani. “As far as I’m concerned, she can feed you.”
He let out another yowl, apparently not happy with that suggestion.
“Oh yeah? Well, how do you think I feel?”
His next meow was short and definitive.
“Do I at least get morning cuddles?” I scooped him up and butted his forehead with mine. He rubbed his whiskers against my face, a purr rippling through him, and I pressed a kiss to his soft cheek.
Dani’s eyes were bright with amusement as she watched us.
“I can’t let him win too easily,” I said in defense, lowering Baxter to the ground and giving him a scoop of food. “He’s spoiled enough as it is, aren’t you?” He was too busy eating to reply.
She focused on him a moment longer, then glanced at me, our gazes locking. Her hair was in a loose ponytail, pieces falling out around her face. She had no makeup on. Her sleep shirt was big and baggy.
She’d never looked more beautiful.
A faint blush rose to her cheeks, and I shifted my gaze, turning to get her coffee and a plate of pancakes.
“Thanks,” she said as I placed both in front of her. She picked up her fork, but instead of eating, she spun the fork between her fingers. “Look?—”
“If the next words out of your mouth are going to be ‘I’m sorry,’ I don’t want to hear it,” I said.
Her mouth snapped shut, surprise and a little hurt flashing across her face.
I swallowed. “I’m the one who owes you an apology. I shouldn’t have avoided you the way I did last week.”
She studied her fork. “Why did you?”
I exhaled through my nose, dropping to my forearms on the island. “It was nothing you did. That night at the gallery and then dinner afterward—it was amazing. The best night I’ve had in a long time. But all the stuff with you and Alec…” An invisible hand wrapped around my throat and squeezed.
She watched me, waiting.
“It felt like a lot,” I finally managed. “And I tend to push people away when that happens. I know I shouldn’t, but I do. I did . And I’m sorry.”
She nodded, staring at her plate again.
I wanted to tilt up her chin and peer into her eyes, see what she was feeling. Not being able to felt like being locked in the walk-in, muscles going cold and numb while all I could do was wait.
“I get it,” she said after a minute, one corner of her mouth lifting in a way that was almost sad. “I know all about feeling overwhelmed and pushing people away.”
Right.
Like when she’d broken up with Alec. Her mistake. The thing I’d told her wasn’t a mistake since it had been what she’d needed at the time.
That was what I was doing now, wasn’t it? What I needed?
“And you’re right,” she went on, still talking at her pancakes. “It is a lot. So maybe we take a step back. You’ve done so much to help me with the symposium, and I feel like we make a good team when it comes to the event stuff, so maybe we just stick to that from now on. Not overcomplicate it.”
“Sure,” I agreed, mouth suddenly dry. “Keep it simple.”
It was what I’d wanted. The whole point behind avoiding her in the first place. To pull things back. And now we were on the same page.
I should be relieved.
So why, as I watched her pick at her pancakes, her gaze still avoiding mine, did I feel as though a gaping hole had been carved from my chest instead?