Chapter 6 #2
“Oh.” Her gaze dips. “Well. I know you’d prefer it if I stay clear. So if you could let me know the best time to leave the guest room—”
“You don’t have to hide in the guest room. If you want to use the kitchen, you can.” I can’t hide the irritation in my voice. Which is stupid, because really, there’s nothing to be irritated about.
Well, except having my ex living in my condo, stirring up a bunch of unpleasant memories. And making me feel guilty for almost getting her killed.
But besides that, no reason to be irritated at all.
I head over to the coffee maker and lift the top. “Do you want coffee? Juice? I don’t think I have any tea, but I could have some delivered.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
A glance over my shoulder shows Sofia still standing near the doorway. Her injured arm is tucked up in her sling, and her other arm is wrapped around her waist. She looks small and vulnerable and more nervous than I can ever remember seeing her.
Something about it plucks at a chord deep inside me.
I don’t like seeing her like this.
I want to make her feel better.
I don’t know why. I just do.
“Do you want coffee?” I ask again. “Food?”
Sofia takes a tentative step into the kitchen. “I can make the coffee myself.”
“I’m already standing here, aren’t I?” Plucking a Kenyan roast from the carousel, I pop the pod into the coffee maker, stick a clean mug beneath, and start it.
While the coffee brews, I rummage through another cabinet until I find a small container of honey, then head to the fridge and pull out the carton of creamer.
Sofia edges closer to the island and slides onto one of the stools in front of it. “Thanks. You didn’t need to… But thanks.”
I set the honey and creamer in front of her. “It’s fine. Like I said, I was already standing by the coffee maker.”
She watches me as I bring the mug of steaming coffee over to the island and place it beside the honey and creamer. I take a spoon from the silverware drawer and add it to the small arrangement. “Do you need anything else?”
Sofia stares at the honey. “You remembered,” she says quietly.
I jolt at her words. Then I look at the honey and creamer again.
Shit. I wasn’t even thinking. But Sofia would always make her coffee with cream and honey. Whenever we’d be studying late, or we’d stop at the coffee shop near school, she’d always have her coffee the exact same way.
My heart does a funny, twisting thing.
“I guess,” I reply sharply. “Don’t read into it.”
The moment the words come out of my mouth, I regret them.
Sofia ducks her head. Her hair falls in long curtains, hiding her face. “Don’t worry,” she mutters. “I won’t.”
Shit.
She’s hurt. Scared. Staying in an unfamiliar place. And I’m sure she feels just as uncomfortable with this living situation as me. So why am I being rude to her?
“Do you want anything to eat?” I ask by way of apology. “I’ve got plenty of food. Eggs, bacon, toast, fruit…”
“It’s not necessary.” She dumps some creamer and honey into the mug and stirs it quickly. Then she gets off the stool and glances back towards the hallway. “I’m not hungry.”
“You need to eat to keep your energy up.”
“I can eat later.”
“Sofia.” I use my commanding tone, the one I mastered in the Army. “You need to eat.”
“I can eat later,” she replies. Her chin lifts. Her eyes flash with defiance. “I’m not hungry right now.”
Even if she was, she wouldn’t tell me. Not now. Not after I put that hurt look in her eyes.
This is even harder than I thought it would be.
It’s really hard to be angry when my instincts are screaming at me to protect her.
“Listen, I’m going to head into the office soon,” I offer, knowing this isn’t a battle I’m going to win right now.
“So if you get hungry, you can help yourself. And if you’re not feeling up to cooking, I have a meal service, too.
There are a bunch of pre-cooked meals in the fridge—all you have to do is pop them in the microwave for a couple of minutes and they’re all set. ”
Sofia sighs. “Okay. Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“And if you need anything while I’m gone,” I add, “I’ll leave a phone for you to use. It’s just a basic burner phone, but I’ll put my number into it. I wouldn’t let anyone else know where you are—”
Sofia edges closer to the hallway. “I know. I won’t.”
I’m not sure why I’m reluctant to let her leave. “The security. I’ll make sure it’s armed when I leave. Not that anyone will bother you here, but better safe than sorry.”
“How long will you be gone for?”
“Until six or seven,” I reply.
“Oh.” Sofia’s voice goes quiet. “Okay.”
Guilt stabs into me.
Should I leave her here like this? With her still recovering from a concussion? It’s been two nights, technically, which means the worst of the danger is over. But if she gets dizzy, falls, hurts herself again…
But I have work to do. After spending all of yesterday dealing with Sofia, first at the hospital, and then settling her in here, I’m way behind.
And while I could work from my office here, I’ll be nowhere near as productive.
Meetings would have to be rescheduled. Working from home would be a distraction I don’t need.
And I need a break, I silently admit. Some time to not have painful memories shoved in my face.
“I’ll turn on the cameras inside the condo,” I tell her. “They’re usually off, but I like having them for when I’m out of town. With the cameras on, I—”
“Can make sure I’m not stealing something?” Sofia’s tone is sharp. Her eyes spit fire at me. “I won’t. But if it makes you feel better to have your security cameras watching, go ahead.”
“That’s not what I meant—”
“It’s fine.” She lifts her chin. “I get it.” Her voice goes flat. “Thanks for the coffee.”
Then she spins around and hurries from the room, leaving me standing by the counter, alone.
That’s not what I meant, I want to argue.
But if the positions were reversed, wouldn’t I assume the same thing?
Turning back to the window, I lay my hands flat on the counter and let out a heavy sigh.
This is harder than I thought it would be.
I thought I could compartmentalize my emotions while she’s here—setting aside the bitterness and disappointment and hurt while I focus on keeping her safe.
I thought I could set aside the memories.
I thought enough years had gone by for it to not bother me.
How stupid was I?
All of it bothers me. Not just Sofia in danger. But seeing her injured. Scared. Anxious. Remembering the way she likes her coffee after eighteen damn years. Wanting to make breakfast for her so I know she eats something. Feeling sick at the idea of leaving her alone in my condo.
And knowing I’m the one who put that hurt look in her eyes?
That bothers me most of all.