Page 3 of Protecting What's Mine

“It’s not a problem.” Gulp. Hot guy at the end of the hallway? That sounds like trouble. But I’m only here for a few days, I remind myself. Just until my new apartment is ready.

I’m exhausted and just want to fall into bed, but I strangely don’t want this moment to end. Or for him to leave. His eyes roam my face again, like he’s drinking me in.

Without warning he reaches out and touches my arm, ever so gently. “Alex, I…”

The instant his skin comes into contact with mine I flinch. No, not flinch - I jolt back like I’ve just touched a stove. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Immediately Jacob steps back and his face becomes hard as stone. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“No no, I’m sorry, I was just surprised…”

“It wasn’t appropriate…”

“It’s fine.”

Our words tumble over each other, fighting for dominance. Then we both fall silent. His gaze won’t lift, and I’m suddenly desperate for him to look at me again. To see my apology. To try to make him understand that it’s not about him. I’m just broken.

Jacob walks to the door, careful not to brush me as he moves past. “Breakfast will be on the bar in the morning. The room key opens the front door so you come and go as you like.” He starts to leave.

“Jacob, wait.”

He pauses, then turns his head slightly towards me. Still, he won't meet my eyes. I will him to look at me, just once. I want to know we’re ok.

We?

“Where will you be tomorrow?”

His shoulders tense at the question. “I’ve got errands to run so I’ll leave early and come back just before we open at midday. I won’t disturb you.”

“That’s not what I meant-”

“It’s ok. Goodnight, Alex.” He shuts the door and I stay still as I listen to footsteps receding down the hall, then a creak and a click as another door opens and closes.

Well, I definitely screwed that up. But then again, he’s just the owner of the bar that I’m staying in temporarily. It shouldn’t really matter what he thinks of me.

Except it does. A lot. Even after a hot shower and finally climbing into bed, that flinch replays in my mind over and over. And the pain in his eyes when I did it. My fingers itch to throw back the blankets, my feet desperate to walk down the hall, my racing heart craving his understanding.

My dreams are haunted with gray eyes.

Jacob

I’m sweating like a man possessed, and my breath comes short and sharp. My legs scream for me to slow down, but I don’t. Running the mountain trail once is hard enough, so a second loop feels like punishment. But maybe that’s why I’m doing it.

How could I have been so fucking stupid? I’m alone in a building with a woman who doesn’t know me, so I touch her and freak her out. She must hate me now. I’m an idiot.

I take the final bend and see the end in sight, but instead of taking it easy I push even harder. Every step is agony but I revel in it, every footfall feeling like a metaphorical slap in the face.

What. The. Fuck. Were. You. Thinking. You. Pathetic. Asshole.

Crossing the end marker, I stagger towards the nearest bench and fall down more than sit down. I grab the drink bottle I left there and douse my face in water before gulping down a few mouthfuls. If I want to be able to stand at the bar tonight I need to stop running, but it doesn’t seem like enough.

Perhaps I should just apologise to her instead of flogging myself to death.

My watch reads 11am, which means half an hour before my brother arrives for his lunch shift and an hour before the bar opens. If I leave now there’s just enough time for a quick shower before Ethan arrives, so there’s little chance that I’ll be alone with Alex.

Until the bar closes again. But that’s a problem for later.

Throwing my gear into the back of my banged-up pickup truck, I drive back to the bar. I park right by the door, and make a show of slamming the truck door closed and noisily coming through the back door and up the stairs. In case she wants to avoid me, she’ll know where I am. As I reach the top of the stairs I glance to the left, towards her room. Is she in there? Was she too cold last night? Is she still scared of me? Despite every cell in my body wanting to seek her out, I turn away and go to my own room. It’s not about what I want - it’s all about what she needs. And she made it clear she needs space.

I emerge fifteen minutes later with wet hair still dripping down my neck, but I don’t care about my appearance. Every day it’s the same - blue faded jeans, basic cotton t-shirt, and my ratty Converse that probably should have been replaced three years ago. But since my entire life happens inside these walls, I don’t see the point in an extensive wardrobe. There's no time for a social life, or hobbies, or even a holiday. There was also no reason to. Unless there was someone to share it with - but after last night, that seemed more unlikely than ever.

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