Chapter 16
AUTUMN
“What about these?” Amusement dances in his eyes, making it hard to look away. Brandon being shirtless again with basketball shorts hanging low from his waist doesn’t hurt either.
With a terrycloth towel wrapped around me twice, I stand at the side of his bed while he presents options for me to wear.
Scanning the oversized sports jersey that would fit me like a dress on the bed, and pivoting my gaze to the “Property of Mountain Laurel Cove Football” tee that’s not much shorter on the chair, I end back up on the boxers and white tank top in his hands. “I’ll try those.”
I reach out to catch the clothes he tosses my way, but the towel slips, so I grapple to keep it around me instead.
My cheeks heat as the clothes fall at my feet.
With a huff, I pick them up and head for the door to change in the other bedroom.
“I need to go home tomorrow for more clothes.” I stop in the doorway, though, thinking about what good I’m really doing here.
I think that’s a conversation we should have when I’m dressed.
“We can wash your clothes.”
“It’s okay. I have a rotation of colors all planned out. It’s no big deal to get them in the morning.” As soon as I close the door, I drop the towel and slip on the boxer briefs. Even with the waistband rolled down, the fitted-to-his-thighs fabric only hangs loosely over mine.
Was it wise to wear my bra in the shower?
Nope, but I had no choice. He needed help, but as I slip the soft striped cotton of the tank over my chest, it rubs gently over my nipples that still ache to be touched .
. . bit . . . appreciated at the very least. I’m beginning to not even recognize myself around Brandon.
This is unfamiliar territory for me. I haven’t felt strongly for someone in so long, I didn’t think I had the ability anymore.
It’s not unsettling. I’m relieved to feel alive once again, even if he’s off-limits. I know that part of me, my sensuality, isn’t dead. Thank goodness!
But right now, this magnetism between us needs to be put on the back burner. When the job is over, maybe, just maybe, we can explore something more personal. This is not the time.
Keep things light, Autumn. Amicable and on topic. My assistance in his healing is at the top of the list of priorities. Remember that tomorrow.
It’s late enough to get ready for bed. I brush my hair and then my teeth.
I’d like a glass of water, but there have been enough entanglements with Brandon for one day.
I don’t want to open another Pandora’s box with him.
I climb into bed and switch off the lamp.
Lying on my back, I stare up at the ceiling until my eyes adjust to the dark.
No sounds are slipping under the door, and no night owls hoot outside.
It’s quiet. Too quiet. When I close my eyes, I can hear the water kissing the coast of the cove at home.
The creak from a sister sneaking around on our old wood floors.
The pipes running when someone turns on a faucet or flushes the toilet.
The muffled sounds of the TV on downstairs when Dolly falls asleep watching it.
So silence is rarely a thing I experience at home.
I’m undecided if I like it or not. Maybe it takes some getting used to.
Glancing over at the time, thirty more minutes have passed with me staring at the ceiling.
The silence overtaking my thoughts is making me restless.
I flip the covers up and slip my feet to the floor.
Dropping my head down, I rub my forehead, feeling tired and dry.
“Water.” I get up and quietly turn the doorknob.
Looking right, I can’t hear Brandon sleeping in his room, but there are no lights on either. To my left, it’s dark other than the moonlight that drifts through those large windows in the living room. I sneak down the hall to the kitchen, padding across the living room when I hear, “No good night?”
Slamming my hand to my chest, I whip my gaze through the dark to find a silhouette of Brandon sitting in the chair facing the windows. He turns to the side, giving me a full profile of that straight nose and the harsh line of his jaw.
“I didn’t know anyone was awake.” Could have probably said I didn’t know he was awake, since he’s the only other person here, but it felt less of an attack to keep things general.
His gaze returns toward the night outside when he releases a heavy breath. “I was awake earlier when you went to bed. What happened in the bedroom?”
I start for the kitchen to get that glass of water again, not bothering to sneak this time.
“It wasn’t what happened,” I say, grabbing a glass from the cabinet, standing where the angle of the kitchen blocks my view of him.
“It was . . .” The words collapse in my throat, knowing that everything doesn’t need to be said. “Water?”
“No.”
The sound of leather shifts, making me look up as I turn on the faucet.
He stands, the side of his body I can see remaining dark while the moon shines on his front.
Cold water floods over the rim of the glass, and I’m quick to turn the faucet off.
The weight of the conversation and the expectations that seem to be quietly dancing between us are too much to stay silent.
You’re his nurse, Autumn. Nothing more.
Not his entertainment.
Not his friend.
Not even someone to playfully flirt with.
He turns around, his face now shrouded in darkness when all I want to do is see the light that shines in his eyes when he is amused, and that smile that always tilts more toward a smirk like he has a secret or even naughty thoughts.
He has so much revealed in his features that it has become a fun game of discovery, and it’s all hidden from me now.
I don’t like it. “Then what was it? Tell me,” he says in a tone lacking his usual humanity. This confusion is what I’ve caused by crossing lines.
I don’t know any other way out of it other than through honesty. “It’s what could have happened.”
“And if we wanted it to happen?” His voice stays low, matching the night and the pull between us.
“We shouldn’t want it.” For such a true statement, it sure feels like a lie I’m telling myself. “We shouldn’t even be in the position of wanting such things when I’m here to take care of you.”
“I don’t need constant care.” And there it is. The truth shines like a beacon that we were avoiding.
“I know.” My heart thunders in my chest as I admit what I haven’t wanted to, even to myself.
He shifts, stepping into a ray streaking across the floor.
It brings his smile into focus, brightening his eyes when he looks at me.
“But I like your company, Nurse.” That word endears me to him all over again.
I keep thinking I’m strong enough to hold this wall up between us, but it’s too heavy when there’s no belief in it anymore. I let it fall.
Despite my focus being in one place, my heart is already in his hands across the room. There’s no fighting this attraction any longer.
Standing with nothing more than fifteen feet, a chair, and a glass of water between us, I set my water down and gravitate toward him to eliminate the other obstacles.
“I like your company as well, Lieutenant.” And when I reach him, I look into those cappuccino eyes, ready to take a sip of whatever he’s offering.
“So what do we do about it?” The tips of his fingers barely brush my hip before he pulls away like he touched fire and got burned.
“I could be fired for acting on impulse.”
“I’m not reporting you.” Flexing his fingers at his side, he grins. “And who said it’s impulse?” He gives in and caresses my face. “I may not remember what happened years ago with you, but I know deep in my soul we have unfinished business between us.”
My throat thickens as tears well in my eyes. I look down, closing them tight. The whiplash of emotion in the past few days leaves me disoriented. Connections don’t work like this. Strings shouldn’t already be strung, tying us together like they have, especially considering our history.
How do I know what reaction to believe or trust when my head is playing tricks on me?
“I can’t think with you this close.” I’m overwhelmed by my spinning thoughts and the new memories we made, which stand in stark contrast to the past. A tear squeezes through the barriers of my lids, and I watch it fall like time has slowed until it lands on his bare foot.
Cupping my face, he tilts me up to look in his eyes. His glisten with things that are locked away from his memory. “Please tell me I didn’t hurt you.”
My heart stops, the next breath trapped in my chest. My eyes widen as I slip out of his hands.
The answer races to the tip of my tongue, the truth ready to spill out like a can of worms we’ve opened.
But those tears weren’t for me. They’re his.
The pain that infiltrated his heart and stole the memory of me threatens in a new way. Breaking him.
I’ve dreamed about revenge in stupid ways over the years.
It seemed only natural, but when given the chance, I won’t play a role in the destruction of him.
“You didn’t hurt me.” The lie feels more normal than I expected.
It should. It’s a cardigan I’ve cuddled up in many times over the past ten years.
The lie flowed like water to my sisters and my grandmother.
I told it to a friend in college and coworkers I’d grown close to.
I was fine. No need to worry about me. I’ll be fine to the outside world, even if I’m not on the inside.
The air feels lighter for some reason, as if I’ve visited this comfort zone before. I get my glass and take another sip, then a gulp. The water is refreshing, as if dehydration had been the problem before.
I look at him still standing where I left him, breathing easier, and say, “We should go to bed.”
Lowering his head, he walks toward the hall but stops just before reaching it. “Can I ask one last thing of you?” He knows.
Reading me like an open book, he knows this is where it ends.
Come morning, he’ll have no use of my services, and I’ll go home.
He doesn’t need me any longer. Excluding me and the accident, his thoughts are sharp, his back is healing, the swelling around his eye is gone, and he has no trouble seeing.
Only his shoulder still needs care, and if I’m being honest, it’s something he can do himself.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Will you stay with me?” Even the short distance can’t hide the temperament in his gaze—the sincerity, the ache, the vulnerability that I’m positive not many others, if any, have seen in him before.
“No sex. Just be there with me.” As much as I love that he’s so honest and open with me, it’s the yearning that draws me toward him.
I take his hand and lead us back down the hall.
I don’t need to reply. He knew the answer before he asked the question.
So did I. This isn’t desire, although that’s strong between us.
It’s part of that unfinished business he senses, and I have always felt.
It’s just best to get it out of our systems so when the sun rises, we can part.
I’ll walk away, leaving nothing to chance and closing that old chapter once and for all.