Page 88 of Hell or High Water

He glanced back over his shoulder and gave me a smile that didn’t match the apology in his eyes. That, and the regret. I didn’t smile back. There was only so much faking I could do, and that was asking too much.

“Hungry?” he asked.

I shook my head. I’d barely eaten yesterday. My appetite had vanished, along with him, and although he was back, it was not.

“You’re not going to make me eat alone, are you?”

He’d been fine with leaving me to eat alone all day yesterday. No, not going to say that.

“Just not hungry,” I replied, walking over to get coffee.

I could feel him watching me, but I didn’t make eye contact. I’d seen his regret, and I didn’t want to see it anymore.

“I had some work I needed to get done at the distillery yesterday,” he said.

“Okay,” I replied.

That was a lie, and he knew it. His brother could have done the work instead of staying here and watching the cabin all day. It was humiliating to think of the reason why he’d convinced Ransom to switch places with him.

“Six.” He said that nickname he had for me.

“Yes?” I asked while stirring sugar into my cup.

“Look at me.”

Ugh. I’d rather not.

Trying my best to look as if he hadn’t hurt me, I looked up from my cup to meet his gaze. Damn him and those blue eyes. The butterflies in my stomach didn’t seem to care that he didn’t want me the way I did him. They went off just the same.

“You’re mad at me. I’m sorry. I should have told you where I was going.”

I shrugged. “You don’t have to report to me,” I said as casually as I could, then headed back toward the bedroom.

I’d faced him. Now back to my safe space.

“Wait, don’t go back in there. We need to talk.”

Great. I closed my eyes tightly, wishing he’d just let me go. Keeping my back to him, I said, “I have schoolwork to get done. Can we talk later?”

I heard his heavy sigh.

“Six, come on. Don’t be like this. We both know that your schoolwork can wait.”

Yes, well, not with my new plan to get out of your hair so you can get your life back.

But I turned around anyway. “What is it you’d like to discuss?” I asked him as if I didn’t know.

He turned off the stove and moved the bacon off the hot eye, then looked back at me. “Can we sit down?” he asked, motioning toward the sofa.

I thought about the other times we’d been on the sofa and the things we’d done. I shook my head. “I’d rather sit on the stools.”

There was that damn regret again. Flashing like a neon sign on his face.

I pulled out a stool and sat, then looked at my coffee as I continued to stir it. The stool beside me moved as he dragged it across the hardwood, then took a seat. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, which put his eyes right at the same level as mine, making him impossible to ignore. I glanced at him and wished I hadn’t.

“I panicked, and I handled things wrong. Okay? I ran to clear my head and think through what we’d done. It was a shit thing to do, and I am sorry.”

Fine. He was sorry. But what had he needed to think about? Because he was clearly not happy we’d had sex. The outcome of his thinking couldn’t be in my favor.

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