17. Chapter 17 #2
Heat blooms across my skin like I've stepped too close to a bonfire. I'm struggling to resist this new and powerful pull that makes my body crave to be pressed against his.
You're not ready, my mind screams.
My libido isn't listening.
He glances up, our eyes connecting across the room, and I startle like I've been caught stealing. My body jerks backward in an involuntary flinch and I force my gaze to the floor.
His shoulders immediately roll forward, the casual confidence collapsing into the concern he's been carrying for days. "You okay? Am I still reminding you of… that man?"
"No! No, it's… just getting used to the hair. But it's cute. Spiky. But very cute. Brings out your eyes. Um…"
God, what am I saying?
I try to shift focus and hurry to the couch, dropping down beside him. I'm closer than I intended, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his defined, capable body.
He's so undeniably male. Not in the threatening way I've come to associate with masculinity, but something else entirely. Something that makes me want to lean in rather than run away.
"Sure everything is good?" Sean asks.
"Yup."
"Okay. Well, I'm glad." His voice drops to that gentle range that seems reserved just for me. The deeper valleys in his voice make my body hum. "I hope you're more comfortable around me."
"Extremely comfortable."
He gives me a strange sideways glance, so I scramble for safer ground.
"Should we, um, talk about our books?" I clutch my quantum consciousness paperback like it might shield me. "I'm not really sure how to start. I've never been in a book club before."
"Me either," Sean says. "I don't know. Maybe you could go first? Talk about any sections that stood out to you? I've read it, so I think there's some pretty cool ideas there. But I'm curious what you thought."
I believe him; he's leaning forward, engaged, and his eyes have a sheen like I'm his sole focus in the world.
My heart flips. I know it's not physically possible for my heart to do that, but it damn well feels like it's doing actual somersaults in my chest.
I nod enthusiastically because I'm ready to focus on books and not.
.. Sean's unbelievably ripped body that I can't stop thinking about touching.
"So, well, I actually got into it more than I expected and almost made it halfway.
" I flip to the middle of chapter two. "There's this part about how we absorb the world around us through"—I skim a paragraph to get the right term—"uh, 'resonance' that clicked with me. "
"Yeah?" His eyebrows do this sexy arch and his eyes dance between mine like he's trying to absorb everything about me.
I bite my lip. "Yeah, um… I guess my understanding is that we only experience the things we're tuned in to experience.
It's similar to what I learned in—" I shouldn't tell him how much therapy I've been in, right?
I'll just tell him I read about it. "Well, I like psychology and read self-help books sometimes.
I've always been fascinated that we all have the same bodies.
You know, the basics. We all have brains and nervous systems and hormones.
The same building blocks. Yet two people can respond differently to the same traumatic event.
In thera—uh—from reading I've learned how one person might experience long-term PTSD from a car accident, for example.
But another person, who has the same accident, can walk away with no mental struggles at all. "
I run my fingers over the dry, smooth surface of a book page. If only I could've been someone who walked away completely fine from my 'accident.' Why can't I be the type of person to heal quickly?
Sean is giving me space to see if I have more to add.
I clear my throat. "So this book really connected with my fascination about trauma and how people recover from it.
The book takes a scientific approach around the same idea.
We're all just… filtering reality through our own personal detectors.
Now, if I could figure out how those detectors are created and how to change them, that'd be awesome. "
Sean just smiles, leaning closer like he's completely enraptured by my rambling. "What else?"
His full lips stretch over white teeth and my thoughts go a bit wild. What kind of kisser would he be? Gentle? Demanding? Would those plump lips feel as soft as they look pressed against mine?
"Any other thoughts?"
I blink rapidly at him, yanked from my inappropriate fantasy like someone's thrown cold water in my face. Heat crawls up my neck again. Can he 'see' the dirty visions in my head? Did my eyes give me away?
"Sorry, I…" My voice sounds strange, slightly breathless.
It hasn't been like this in years. "Let me think.
" I flip through the pages, my cheeks unbearably hot.
"Um, well, that's mostly it. The part about resonance stood out the most. There are things I don't resonate with anymore.
And other parts of the world I'm painfully, constantly aware of. It's all I see sometimes."
Hypervigilance. I really hate it. Also, I'm not explaining the book correctly and probably just sound insane.
Sean's smile breaks into a grin and he nods with such genuine understanding it makes my chest ache.
"That's what I got from it too. I think—" He cuts off suddenly and straightens, pulling away from me and leaning back on the couch.
He runs his tongue over his top teeth like he's thinking about something.
"What?" I ask. His entire energy shifted and he's looking so serious now.
"Hah. Well, I don't want to get heavy when book club has just started."
"I picked a heavy book, so it makes sense."
He sighs but doesn't look upset, only amused by what he's about to tell me.
Like he can't believe he's going to say it.
"I… I get what you're saying about people coming out of the same experience with completely different viewpoints.
Some of my buddies I served with in the Marines, same team, got out and went on to have good lives.
A few went to college and got solid careers.
Some got married and have kids by now. Good lives.
" He runs his tongue over his teeth again.
"One of my buddies really struggled from what he saw and got addicted to alcohol.
He married then divorced twice. He's still struggling with addiction and flashbacks, now some health problems. We experienced the same things together but all had different reactions. "
"What about you?"
Any lightness in his expression fades and he's staring down, down into the floor like there's a dark world beyond. "You really wanna know that?"
"Of course. I mean, you have seen one of my freak outs. It's only fair we balance it out a little."
He's back to smirking and I'm glad. He has such a handsome smile.
Sean inhales deeply, like he'll need extra air to answer my question.
"I didn't do so well right after I got out.
Think I'm good at keeping things in because I didn't have anyone to talk to as a kid.
After the Marines, I realized I needed someone to just listen, so I went to a therapist. He'd also been a soldier, then got his psychology degree, so he understood a lot without me having to explain.
The smells, the sounds, that dread that never stops because you always have to be alert…
he got it. He said I was dealing with PTSD and he helped me through that rough patch. "
Sean's vulnerability creates a bridge between us. It's unexpected, fragile, but somehow sturdy enough to step onto.
"That sounds like it was a lot," I say, wanting to reach out and touch his shoulder. I hold myself back. "I'm glad you found someone who understood. Someone who could translate between the world you came from and the world you were trying to live in."
He nods, his eyes a little vacant. He said he keeps a lot in, so he's probably not used to sharing those things.
But he shared that with me?
My heart does another somersault. Then I pick at some fuzz on the couch, choosing my words with care. "I understand. Not the military part, obviously. But the… aftermath. The way traumatic experiences rewire your brain. How it changes what can… resonate with you, I guess. How are you doing now?"
"With the Marines stuff, better."
There's a subtext to his words: are there other things that aren't better? I decide not to get nosey and ask. If he wanted to share more, he would, but this might be all he can handle right now.
I definitely understand that.
When he glances at me, I honestly can't tell what he might be thinking. What he shared was powerful and raw, but he looks a little neutral. He's good at keeping things in, like he said.
It feels like I should fill the silence, or maybe I'm feeling compelled to speak. Or I want him to feel comfortable. Or I'm orbiting too close to him now and need to fully connect. Either way, I say, "I like that you shared your past with me."
His expression doesn't change, but his eyes dance between mine again. "Why's that?"
"I like knowing more about you. And knowing that you understand PTSD.
Clearly, it's controlling my life right now.
" I should shut my mouth and stop talking, but my chest is aching and longing for things I know I shouldn't want.
So I don't shut up. Instead, I blurt out, "I've been lonely for a long time.
Sitting here talking with you, having this little connection, makes me happy.
" I gesture at the security camera. "I'm happy knowing that you're there, keeping an eye on me. "
To push things way too far, and without thinking, I touch his shoulder. It's a light brush of feverish fingers against solid muscle. His eyes drop to my hand and then flash wide in surprise. I jerk back, regretting how much I'm trying to close the gap between us.
"Sorry," I mumble.
This longing in me seriously needs to stop.
Sean takes a deep swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing in a throat I suddenly want to trace with my tongue.
Does strength have a flavor?
"Don't be sorry," he says, his voice dropping half an octave. His eyes briefly flick to my mouth, though he tries to hide it and quickly glances at my book.
It's too late, though, because now I'm wondering: is he feeling this pull too?
Is he thinking of kissing me?
When I check in with myself, I'm not scared of the thought. Kissing him would be nice.
Suddenly, I'm hyperaware of my body—the pulse throbbing at my wrist, the flush creeping down my neck as my breathing changes tempo. I've been trying so hard to rebuild my sense of safety that I never considered what would happen when I felt safe enough to want.
And I do want . Yet I don't know if my psyche can actually handle what my body is demanding.
Sean stiffens and leans away from me as he glances up at the security camera.
I've been so lost in my little obsessive Sean-bubble that I didn't realize: Is Mike watching all this?
My fever drops and I'm left cold and anxious. Sean works for me. He's here to protect me, not desire me. The power dynamics are all wrong, aren't they?
I force a grin, eager to remove this new, unsettled energy between us. "Why don't we talk about your book? You can spoil the ending. I might not read it anyway."
He opens his book slowly like he's groggy from waking up and trying to concentrate. "Sure. It's… about this detective who gets pulled into investigating a series of murders that seem random but…"
He drones on a bit robotically, his voice flatter than normal. I turn my head so I can't look at him and risk any wild inappropriate fantasies.
"...and the twist is that his partner had been the killer all along, working to frame him for the murders." Sean closes the book and stares at it.
Everything feels too awkward between us now, so I quickly ask, "Did it have a satisfying ending?"
"Yeah. It was pretty well done." He glances at the security camera again.
I should end this. I need time to process emotions and sensations, and Sean's mood has dropped so maybe he needs to think about stuff too.
I jump to my feet. "I'm actually not feeling that great. I think I'm going to head to bed early."
Whatever heavy rain clouds that had accumulated over Sean suddenly get ignored as his voice tightens with concern. "You okay? Do you need anything? Medicine?"
I shake my head, already moving toward the door and creating distance between us that's needed but also disappointing. "No, I just need to rest. Sorry to cut this short. I really liked our book club and I'm glad you suggested it."
He moves past me with that fluid grace that now makes my skin prickle with awareness. "I liked it too." He unlocks the door. "Same time next week?"
Yes! I want to blurt out, but I should take a moment to think about this.
More time alone with Sean? My libido might explode.
I attempt a teasing smile, not ready to commit to another book club meeting yet. "You'll probably have read half my collection by then."
"Probably, yeah."
We share a moment of warm eye contact, of smiling, of me imagining how I might grip his firm shoulders while his body covers mine and his mouth and hands claim every inch of me.
Thoughts that are one hundred percent normal but also terrifying.
"Goodnight," I blurt out and shut the door.
I press the back of my hand against my forehead. I'm feverish.