54. Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Four
Kat
We stayed there for so long. So, so long. I thought maybe he’d discovered the shape of my grief if not the context. And it started to feel like maybe he had joined me there.
When we finally exited the shower, I wasn’t crying anymore. But we were quiet. There was no more flirting. No more teasing. No more tender touches. He was careful, and he helped me dry off, and wrapped my hair in the towel.
But he wouldn’t look at me.
I had needed this to happen.
Wanted this to happen.
I couldn’t let this happen.
I let my towel fall to the floor and pressed myself up and against him, getting myself wet again but not caring. I gently placed my palm against his cheek, except the crinkle was in the way. The absurd noise it made was loud in the silence, but I didn’t laugh.
I just looked at him for a moment, taking in how tired he looked. How… defeated. Those beautiful blue eyes had dulled to a stormy ocean day. Not a ray of sunshine in sight.
I took in the swelling still present, always present, of his broken cheekbone. It was going to take forever to heal. After I’d headbutted it the other day, and his helmet constantly pressuring it. And he hadn’t complained. Not a single time.
And I still saw the blow that caused it when I closed my eyes.
I squeezed them shut for just a moment before returning my gaze to his face. I pushed the wet hair that was actually IN his eyes now back out of the way. I… didn’t know what to say. So, I settled on something to start, at least. Hoping the rest would come.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. He shook his head slightly.
“You’re leaving, yeah?” he asked, a slight edge to his voice as he looked away from me. Fair.
“I am,” I responded. He stepped back, pulling his face out of my crinkly hand.
“And the bubble is popped,” he stated flatly. I could still hear him saying he hoped it wasn’t just a bubble the other night. And we hadn’t done any of… this. That night.
“I mean, it’s not my birthday anymore. I knew… but I had hoped…” he trailed off, his voice sounding hoarse. I couldn’t do this. I could NOT hurt this man this way.
But I couldn’t tell him about Donovan, either.
And I couldn’t formulate the words to tell him that I knew, now. I knew his feelings were real. But that I also knew they stemmed from a place I couldn’t accept. They came from obligation.
He wouldn’t be here freely.
Even if he’d convinced himself he was.
I threw my arm around his neck in the best hug I could give him right now. And I kissed that delicate, damp skin behind his ear, even as I lost my balance. I knew he wouldn’t let me fall.
“No,” I said firmly. He pulled back to look at me, confused and… hopeful.
“No?” he asked quietly. I shook my head, hard.
“Abso-fucking-lutely not.”
“I do need to leave. To go to work. I have SO much work to do,” I started. He was staring at me so intently, like if he blinked I would disappear into thin air. I kissed his cheek, then really climbed him to kiss his forehead. He chuckled, even as he took all of my weight, which was my intention.
I didn’t know what I was doing.
I didn’t know what I COULD do.
But I wasn’t leaving this sweet, kind, giving man thinking I was rejecting him. Not after everything we’d been through. This morning, last night, last month. Last fall. I couldn’t do it anymore. My heart couldn’t take it anymore.
“And if I bring you tea?” he asked carefully. I smiled. Of COURSE that’s what he went with.
“I’d absolutely accept it,” I said softly. He pulled me closer to him, keeping me up on tiptoe with his grip.
“But if I asked you to come back HERE, tonight?” he asked softly. I hesitated. He sighed, but he didn’t pull away again. And there was still light returning to his eyes when I looked back at them.
“I… Slower. Please? Last night was… perfect. But slower. Please,” I asked, not even sure what I was asking for, or even DOING. He nodded, a small smile on his lips.
The sun broke through the clouds.
He pulled me fully off my feet now, and I wrapped my legs around him.
We made it back out to the bed, where he sat with me in his lap, not caring that we were wet.
He kissed my forehead, my nose, both of my cheeks, my eyelids, my jaw, my neck, before burying his face there.
We stayed there for a moment. But then he spoke.
“Do you want some clothes to wear back to your room, or do you want to walk of shame it in your dress?” he teased. I gasped, not expecting that from him. I smacked him gently in the shoulder. I glared at him for a long moment.
“Give me the damn sweatpants.”