Chapter 13
The number was more than five by the time Sophie and Nate were tangled up, naked, in her bed under the blankets. She rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
She was practically buzzing from the attention he’d given her body and slightly dazed with fatigue, but she couldn’t ignore the faint uneasiness starting to jab at her, trying to wipe out all the good stuff of the past few hours.
Though she tried not to let it filter into her consciousness, it wasn’t hard to figure out the cause: She’d never allowed a man in her bed.
Definitely never let a man stay all night at her place.
The very few men she’d slept with before had been elsewhere — at their apartments, hotels, whatever. Purposely not her home.
You brought this on yourself by starting everything when all he wanted to do was make sure you were okay.
Truly, it was damn difficult to regret starting everything when it had been so … well, amazing didn’t quite cover it. Amazing times a hundred.
Nate played with her hair, idly twisting it around his finger, and the gentle motions soothed her further, helped her shove aside the underlying apprehension.
“When I convinced Penn and the chief to let me come with them tonight, this was not my intention, I promise,” he said. “But I like the way it turned out.”
“Me too.”
He turned onto his side, pulling her flush against him and upward enough so their heads faced each other on the pillow. “I want to know you better, Sophie.”
She laughed nervously. “I’d say you got to know me quite a bit better tonight.”
He didn’t laugh at her attempt at a joke. “I wish you would trust me enough to open up about things.”
Her heart sped up, and not at all in a good way, the way it’d done earlier. “I’ve never been a very open person. It’s not easy.”
“I get that. Well, kind of. But there’s nothing you could tell me about your brother or your family, for example, that would change the way I feel about you.”
Her gut tightened. “It’s not that I think you would judge me. It’s just … private stuff.”
She could see the narrowing of his eyes in the dim, moonlit room. “I’m trying not to push. Trying not to let it bother me.”
But it did bother him. Obviously. No matter what he said or how he tried to accept it, he wanted her to tell him about the fucked-up dynamics of the Alexander family, among other things.
“It’s … hard,” she said. “Too…” She shook her head.
Too emotional. Painful. Made her doubt everything about herself.
She was so not going down that road tonight or anytime soon.
Honestly, there were just some subjects she didn’t talk about.
Ever. She never had. Letting them out now would give them power.
Discussing them would let in all the horrible feelings — doubt, sadness, disappointment, fear. Fear that she wasn’t enough…
Nate watched her patiently, clearly not understanding. After several seconds of silence, he rolled to his back. Disappointed. In her. In her shortcomings. Even though he was trying not to show it, Sophie could feel it coming off him.
There was very little she hated worse than being a disappointment.
“We haven’t known each other for long,” she said, knowing the argument was weak.
He nodded. “I know.”
Sophie rolled away and closed her eyes. He was trying to be patient. Trying not to push her. And she could probably put him off till a later date — maybe next time they were together, maybe even a month from now.
But what it came down to was that she wasn’t comfortable with opening up to someone that much, with allowing someone that close. She didn’t know if she ever would be.
She bit down on the piercing frustration — frustration with everything. With him for needing what she couldn’t handle, with herself for being so fundamentally closed off, with the situation … because she’d gotten a sample of something so good, and it ultimately wasn’t going to work out.
Damn. It. All.
The backs of her eyes burned with tears she would not shed. She already cared about Nate more than she’d cared about anybody before. Squeezing her eyes tightly, she felt like pounding the mattress, throwing a tantrum.
None of that would help though. Because there was no getting around the truth: Losing him now was going to hurt. But losing him later would shred her to pieces.
Inhaling a deep, fortifying breath, she gathered her courage, forced the tears away, and barreled ahead with the only thing she could do.
“I … I don’t think this is going to work,” she said, sitting up on the far edge of the bed, swinging her feet to the floor so her back was to him.
“What?” She heard him roll toward her. “Sophie…”
She stood and grabbed her silk robe that hung over the footboard and wrapped it around her, wishing it could shield her from sadness.
The bed springs squeaked as he bolted out of the other side of the bed. “I wasn’t saying—”
“I know, Nate. I do. You’re not pushing me.
You’re trying hard. But what you don’t understand is that this is the kind of person I am deep down inside.
Always have been, since … forever. I’m the problem.
I wish I weren’t. But the issue isn’t going to go away.
It’ll only get worse. And the closer we get, the more nights like tonight we share … it would just be that much harder.”
“I’m willing to give you time, Sophie,” he said as he walked around to her side of the bed. He stopped in front of her and exhaled, as if the look on her face had let out all his steam and he’d lost momentum. He brushed her hair behind her ear and cupped the back of her head.
Sophie looked up at him, at those eyes that spoke to her like nothing, like no one else.
If she couldn’t make it work with him… They’d known each other a short time, as she’d said, but they’d been through a lot already.
He’d sneaked in past some of her defenses.
Part of that was because of how they’d met, because of what had happened to her.
This man had been there for her in the hospital when nobody else had, and she’d been weak, physically and emotionally, and let him in further than she was usually comfortable with.
If she couldn’t make it work with him, chances were she wouldn’t be able to make it work with anyone, now or in the future.
Maybe she wasn’t trying hard enough. How big of a deal was it, really, to just give him what he wanted? Why not tell him all her secrets? Why not let him really know who she was and what she came from?
Panic seized her, and the bedroom walls seemed to close in at the thought.
Yeah. That was why. She was too much of a coward.
“Time won’t help, Nate. I’m not the kind of woman you’re looking for, and I’m sorry. I really, really wish I was.” She turned away and went to her dresser to dig out some clean clothes, barely able to see through the tears. “I’ll drive you home.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” he said, the first hint of anger seeping into his voice. “You’re going to take an amazing night, an amazing couple of weeks, and throw it away because you’re scared.”
“Yep,” she said, keeping her voice matter-of-fact, because really, he’d summed it up perfectly.
He swore and turned away, took a few steps, and picked up his jeans off the chair where he’d set his clothes. He yanked them on as she pulled on clean underwear and leggings.
“You know what kills me the most?” he asked.
“The thing that attracted me to you from the first moment…” He shook his head and sucked in a loud breath as if steadying himself.
“The thing that drew me in was your courage. The determination I saw in your eyes the instant I shined a light in them in the middle of a raging fucking fire. What happened to that, Sophie? Where’s that courage now? ”
She swallowed hard, his words hitting a little too close to home. Right smack in the center of her. It took a gargantuan effort to keep her voice even, unaffected. “I guess it was false advertising.”
And this was exactly why she didn’t let people know her better. Because the person she was deep down, the one no one really knew, was never good enough for love.
Sophie pulled out the thickest sweatshirt she owned and zipped it up to her chin, but it did nothing to comfort her. “I’ll get my keys.”
As she walked past him, he reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her. They looked at each other for several eternal seconds until she broke eye contact, hating the hurt she saw in his, hating even more that she was the cause of it.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’ll call a friend.” He whipped his shirt over his head.
“I said I’d give you a ride home—”
“I’ve got it covered. Good-bye, Sophie.”