CHLOE
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
NOW
Sleep finally finds me, and I’m treated to the most dreamless night I can remember.
Usually I’m tossing and turning, memories turning to nightmares as my past plays on loop while my body rests.
But not tonight. Tonight I’m too exhausted to do anything other than sleep, and when I wake up to amber eyes staring at me, I’m almost startled by how rested I feel.
“Are you watching me sleep?” I yawn.
“Yes.”
“You know that’s kind of creepy, right?”
“Yep.”
“So why are you doing it?”
He smirks. “How could I possibly look anywhere else when you’re in the room?”
My lips part in surprise, because that was one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me, even if he was watching me sleep like a weirdo.
Suddenly all too aware of my bedhead and morning breath, I roll to the edge of the bed and allow my body a second to wake up before standing.
One of the more unfortunate symptoms I experience is dizziness if I get up too quickly, and I don’t want to faint in front of Ryker after he said something so sweet.
“You okay, Siren?”
“Yeah, just need a minute.”
We’ve never spoken about it, but I know he’s noticed some of the things I do to mitigate my symptoms, and I’m grateful he doesn’t ask any other questions right now.
Because today is going to be hard enough without diving into the complexity of severe endometriosis.
The disease that’s plagued me since I was a teenager, and that has likely taken my ability to have kids from me altogether.
Not that I’ll know until I try, but seeing as my specialist told me when I was seventeen my chances of having children naturally were next to none, I don’t like my chances.
I shake off the thoughts and push myself to my feet, ignoring the spots that cloud my vision.
Fuck.
Calloused hands grasp my elbows, holding on to me as I get my bearings.
“I’ve got you, Siren,” he murmurs, and my chest tightens at the words.
Because once upon a time it was Ronan caring for me through my worsening symptoms, holding my hand at the appointments my parents didn’t have time to attend with me, looking after me when I could barely get out of bed.
And if he didn’t hate me before last night, he sure as hell does now.
Tears well in my eyes before I can choke them down.
I don’t deserve his kindness, not after how I used him for my own gain.
He didn’t deserve that, and the fact he knew what I was doing the entire time only makes me feel worse about myself.
Exhaustion dragged me into sleep when Ryker carried me to bed and tucked me in, but the cold, harsh light of day reminds me of my sins, of how many people I hurt all at once with my need to escape.
He keeps hold of one elbow and cradles my cheek in his palm with the other, swiping away tears as they fall. “Hey, what are these about?”
I shake my head and try to pull out of his hold, but he doesn’t let me. His grip tightens slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough that I can’t escape, no matter how badly my mind urges me to flee.
“Talk to me, Chloe. Tell me what’s going on.”
“I’m just tired,” I lie. “It’s been a long, emotional few days. I guess my body just needs some more sleep.”
His brow dips with doubt, but he doesn’t call me out on it. How does he see so much? We barely know one another and yet I can’t seem to get a single thing past him.
It’s probably just his training, I think to myself. I’m sure all bodyguards are good at reading people, especially the people they’re charged to protect.
Ryker tugs me against his bare chest, and I shamelessly snuggle into him, allowing myself a few moments of being held because this won’t last forever.
Nothing ever does.
And even if he’s adamant on taking me back to New York, sooner or later I’m going to have to leave.
When the Lombardis send more men, I won’t be able to risk anyone getting hurt because of me.
I’m not worth it.
“Why don’t you get a few more hours of sleep?” he suggests. “We don’t have to check out until noon, and it’s only two hours back to New York from here.”
I shake my head. “I can’t go back, Ryker.”
He sighs, holding me against him harder. “I can protect you, Siren. I will protect you.” It’s a promise, but I don’t think it’s one he’ll be able to keep.
Because after last night, every Lombardi will want me dead.