Page 40 of Lost in You

Why did I say fuck? Of all the things that could have come out of my mouth when Trinity said I could watch her undress, I said fuck, and I can’t stop replaying it in my head.

It’s been almost twenty-four hours since that exchange. I didn’t mean it the way she took it, but I know she doesn’t want to hear my explanation.

She’s been rereading a book since she woke up this morning, playing records and refusing to even make eye contact with me. Michael Bublé is currently singing about how good he’s feeling, a stark contrast to the tense mood in the cabin.

“Trin.”

She glances up from her book, brows raised. “What’s up?”

“I didn’t mean it like you took it. When I said fuck?—”

“We agreed to pretend that never happened.” She slams the book closed and stands up from the love seat. “I’m going outside.”

“Outside?”

She walks over to the wall hooks where my coat and hat are hanging. “I just need some fresh air. I’m going stir-crazy in here.”

I shake my head. “That’s--”

She cuts me off again. “I’m not asking for permission. I’m going to stay close to the cabin.”

I walk over to the front door and open it to look outside. It’s snowing so hard I can’t see anything but the dense mass of falling flakes.

“Not now.” I close the door decisively. “At least wait until it quits snowing.”

She smiles, but not at me. “I can survive snowfall.”

Fucking agitating woman. I grab one of my boots and pull it on. At least there’s enough snow gear here for us to both be covered, but this is insane.

“Look, I get that you want to get out of here because things are tense,” I start.

She meets my gaze, the fire in her eyes making me forget the rest of what I was about to say. “I’m going outside alone.”

“No, you’re not.”

She throws her arms up. “Stop treating me like a child. I know how to take care of myself and cope with my anxiety.”

“This is about your anxiety? Is it because of last night?”

When she narrows her eyes, I can practically feel the waves of disgusted anger rolling off of her.

“I have anxiety twenty-four seven. Believe it or not, not everything is about you.”

I take a step closer to her and her eyes flare slightly. “You know how easy it would be for me to jump into bed with you? You don’t think that’s what the caveman in me wants more than anything?”

She scoffs. “So you’re saying you happen to find the only woman within a hundred-mile radius attractive now that you’ve been stuck with me for weeks and there are no other options?”

I run a hand through my hair, my single note of laughter more frustrated than amused. “You think I rejected you last night, but I fucking didn’t. I rejected taking advantage of you.”

With only a couple feet of space between us, she holds her ground, her chin tilted up so our gazes stay locked. “Because I’m just a kid, right? Dalton’s twenty-six-year-old kid sister.”

“It’s not about your fucking age. You don’t fuck your teammate’s wives or sisters. That’s sacred. And even if I could get past that, how could I be sure you truly wanted it and it had nothing to do with your anxiety?”

Her chin drops and her eyes widen. “What the fuck? What could this possibly have to do with my anxiety?”

“Like I said, I know more about depression than anxiety, but I know self-soothing is a thing. Coping with alcohol or drugs or sex. My teammate went through that.”

Her shoulders slump with defeat. “That’s not me. Whether you believe me or not, I had to overcome my anxiety to say what I did last night. It’s the opposite of self-soothing.”

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