Page 40 of Not a Perfect Save

I reach for her hand. For a second she resists, but then lets me take it. I rub it between my palms, trying to warm her.

I bring her knuckles to my lips for a quick kiss, and her fingers stiffen in my grasp. Her throat tightens as she swallows, eyes staying closed. But then Ella squeezes my hand tight in return, almost as if she will never let me go.

Once we’re at her building, I follow her heavy tread up the stairs to her apartment. Inside, Ella shrugs off her coat, dropping it into a sopping mess on the floor and stalks to her sewing station. Halfway there, she spins around and walks back to me before turning again.

I pick up her raincoat and shake it out, watching in silence as she continues to pace back and forth, muttering under her breath. Midway in her path, she stops.

“Want to order Thai?” I try.

Ella shakes her head.

“What about a bacon sandwich?”

“I’m good.”

“Want to go lie down?” I’m not above offering sex. All I get is a blank stare in response.

Something is wrong.

Her eyes drop to the ground. “I actually need to go and help with some stuff for Hannah’s wedding. Maybe you should go?”

Really wrong.She is refusing food and sex and is now volunteering to go work on wedding stuff?

“What exactly do you need to do?” I keep my voice neutral, even though it’s hard not to question her—railroad her into telling me what’s wrong. Simultaneously, I’m trying to tamp down that slight sense of panic building in my gut. I. Do. Not. Panic.

“It’s just that there are a lot of events to manage, all in one week. Seriously, how many parties does it take to get to ‘I do’?” she mutters. “It’s just going to be another fiasco. Zero about it sounds appealing.” I’m not sure if she’s talking to me or to herself. She hasn’t said much about the wedding even though I know she’s been working on clothes for many of the affairs. I keep hoping she’ll ask me to go as her date.

“I can help.” There’s a brief and torturous silence while I wait to see what she says.

“Help?”

Subtlety is lost on Ella. I straighten to my full height and take a deep breath. “I could go with you. Be your date.”

For a second she looks like she might just say yes, but my heart drops the same time her stubborn mask descends. “Trust me you don’t want to do that. It’ll be more women falling at your feet like flies.”

Ella’s right. I don’t want that. What I want is for her not to retreat. What I want is the woman from two hours ago, the one who was laughing in the rain.

“Unless you do?” She tries for a joke, but it falls flat.

I feel the line between my brows deepen at her words. “Wait. Did something happen with that woman on the steps?”

“No, of course not.”

“You seem upset.”

She doesn’t meet my gaze. “It’s great that you help people. You’re good at it. But you don’t need to keep saving me. I’m perfectly able to look after myself.”

Disappointment churns in my gut because she is withdrawing, shrinking back into her shell. And anger—anger at myself because of this irrational need to be around her all the time. I know my place in the world, who I’m supposed to be, and what I’m expected to do. Except when it comes to Ella. Then I’m a fucking ping pong ball. Still, I try again. “And I know that. Totally respect it. But there’s no reason you can’t let me help shield you from your family.”

Ella swallows. “Connor, thank you. But I need to deal with this on my own.” Well, it doesn’t get any clearer than that. So much for hoping that she wants me for more than just her fuck-toy.

I watch, helpless, as she trudges back to her sewing station. She carefully strips the dress off the mannequin and packs it and the other outfits hanging on the crutch in garment bags.

Still, I keep waiting for her to say something, change her mind. But all her attention is focused on her task, completely oblivious to the fact that I’m unraveling here.

But I’m not a masochist, even if all I want is to demand that she let me be with her. My fingers curl at my sides and I grunt. “I see.”

Ella turns at my words. We stare at each other.Say something.

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