Page 56 of My Damaged Protector

“Well, I do like the way you improved on him through the book, though. You know, he was a total selfish bastard at the beginning, but you gave him many opportunities to grow, and I think he made good use of them. He's a cool guy when he's not trying to punch a hole through the wall, something I know for a fact that I wouldn’t do,” he finishes with a pointed look.

The way he summarizes the book with so few words almost makes me feel jealous. Almost. If only I could say so much with so little and go home rich. Unfortunately, that's not a luxury I can have as a writer.

Show, not tell, they'll say. But most people want more telling than showing. I should know. Most of my novellas have reviews with readers demanding to know why they are so short.

Shaking my head at him, I pat him playfully on the chest. He's impressive and annoying at the same time.

“The book wasn't about you, Ian.”

“Now, I don't know if I should be relieved or disappointed.”

“You're weird. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“You're telling me now,” he whispers and winks, tapping at the tip of my nose.

I like this side of him so much it makes my heart hurt. I don't think I've ever seen him let his guard down around me since the first day I met him.

Sure, he's not uptight. But he's always tense, his actions and words tainted by the shadows of his past that he won't let go.

Soon, he falls asleep, his soft sound of snoring filling the room.

I watch him sleep and marvel at the kind of body he has. He has the body of a thirty-year-old, but if you look hard enough, you'll see the gray hair and the wrinkles that show his age.

I reach out to stroke his hair, and he begins to talk in his sleep just like he did that night in the motel. Only this time, he isn't talking about Justin.

No, this time he's talking about me, apologizing for leaving because he knew he would lose me inevitably, so better he leave on his own accord than watch the world snatch me from him.

As he murmurs in his sleep, I struggle with what to feel for him.

Pity or sadness?

It's hard to decide on what to feel for him at this point.

17

IAN

I don't makea habit out of waking up in a bed that isn't mine. That is why confusion is the first feeling that settles in when I come to consciousness, and I realize I'm in a bed that isn't mine.

Popping my eyes open, I look around the room, and I immediately realize I'm still back in the hotel room with Sarah. I must have slept, which of course was the plan when I got in bed with her last night. I just didn't plan to fall asleep so early.

Sitting up, I notice Sarah isn't in the room. The shower is running though, which means she must be in there.

The thought of going to meet her occurs to me, but I'm not particularly interested in putting myself through another morning of no relief, and since I've decided not to have sex with her again until she doesn't feel I'm all about sex, I won't be able to touch her.

Better stay in here and wait for her.

Hopefully, the bliss from the remainder of last night will still be in the air.

I don't know what to expect from her this morning. We haven't exactly had the best of relationships, and yes, that's on me.

Am I suddenly thinking about doing something to change that?

Maybe.

I still don't know for sure.

As if summoned by my inner thoughts, the door to the bathroom opens, and out of it comes Sarah, looking like the only meal I want to eat for the rest of my life.

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