Page 24 of Indebted

He waits for me to climb into bed, then on the edge of the mattress. “Really?” I ask while reaching over to turn out the light.

“Really what?” he asks with an exasperated sigh.

“That’s not the idea. For God’s sake, take off your shoes and get in bed the way any normal person would do.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Relax. I’m not going to force myself on you.” He recoils slightly, which is the least he deserves. “But it’s awkward, you sitting there while I’m trying to fall asleep. And you could probably use a little rest yourself.”

“I’m not spending the night.”

“I wouldn’t dream of you doing anything so unthinkable.” I flip the light off before I can catch sight of his reaction, but something tells me it’s not pleasant.

He plays along, though. Once he’s kicked off his shoes, he stands up and unbuttons his shirt before slowly peeling it away from his body. Now I’m wondering if he’s messing with me. Trying to make me regret asking for this. If he thinks my discomfort would be enough to get me to back down, he doesn’t know me at all.

Finally, once he’s down to his boxer briefs, he climbs in beside me. At least he’s smart enough to leave plenty of space between us. “Is this good enough for you?”

“You don’t have to be a jerk about it. Just because my body is getting better…” Damn it, why did I have to say that? My throat gets tight and I’m glad it’s dark in here. I don’t want him to see me struggling to hold back tears.

“Hey. You’re right.” He snorts softly. “Listen to me, being apologetic and admitting when someone else is right. Don’t tell anybody, okay?”

“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t dream of ruining your reputation.”

“Tell me the truth?”

“Sure.” I’ve been lying to him from day one, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Does your body really feel better? You aren’t pretending there’s less pain than there is?”

“I’m on a very low dose of medication, and I only take it when I need it. My nose is a little stuffy—I’m sure you can hear that when I talk. But otherwise, I’m in much better shape than I was before.”

“It’s just the rest of it you’re still having trouble with.”

“What? You mean it’s not normal to wake up in the middle of the night in the dark and see somebody’s face above yours even though you’re the only person in the room?”

He creeps a little closer, and now I feel the warmth of him seeping through my pajamas. It’s too nice a feeling to ask him to move away. “I hope you know we’re still looking for him. Harder than ever. He must have hideout completely off the grid, like he’s some kind of fucking supervillain.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a safe house somewhere,” I muse, staring up at the ceiling. “He knew about that house, didn’t he?”

“What the hell was up with that house?”

“I know. I wouldn’t go there even if I wanted to give myself nightmares.”

“I don’t know if the doctor told you this, but I made sure you got a tetanus shot.”

“Thanks. I never would have thought of that.”

“Believe it or not, I took—and still take—what he did to you very seriously.”

“I’m sure you did. I’m a big investment.”

“Delilah. Look at me.” I slowly turn my head only because I know he’ll force me into it if I don’t do it on my own. By now my eyes have adjusted to the dark, and I guess his have, too. “This has nothing to do with any of that. That’s the last thing on my mind. I need you to know that.”

“Can you blame me for lashing out a little bit?” When he scowls, I scowl back. “All week, all I hoped for was a visit from you. That’s all I wanted.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Great. How do I get out of this one? “Because we might not be the couple we were pretending to be at the party, and we might not know each other very well, but I sort of thought we were better than that. I would never ask you to sit with me for hours and hours—I know you’re busy, and do you have better things to do. But one single visit? Here I was, half out of it on Percocet, with nothing to do but think and wonder what I did wrong.”

This isn’t why I wanted to do this. Yes, he needs to hear how he made me feel, but I didn’t want to end up blubbering like an idiot. Yet that’s exactly what I’m doing.

And somehow, when I find myself in his arms, weeping against his shoulder, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. Like this is what I was waiting for. Not his conversational skills. Not even his apology. Just his presence. His arms around me. He doesn’t have to say anything—being close to him is enough.

Either it’s all the emotion, or the pain meds and the alcohol are finally mixing it up in my system. No matter the reason why, it isn’t long before I can’t stay awake even when I fight it. “You don’t have to stay…” I manage to mumble while weakly trying to push him away. “I’m so sleepy now.”

“I’ll stay a little while longer.” I think I feel him stroking my back before something warm touches my forehead. “You sleep.”

Wait a second. Something stirs in the back of my head and wakes me up a little. He made it sound like he saw the abandoned house for himself. Like he was there. Does that mean… did he actually come for me? He didn’t send somebody to do it for him?

I would ask, but I’m too tired.

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