Page 26 of Indebted

“Thank you?” Something about the way I say it makes her giggle again, and now I want to make her laugh all the time. I wish I knew how to make her do it, because the sound is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. I can barely breathe, my chest is so tight, so full.

I should get out of this bed. Now.

“Thank you for humoring me last night.” She’s serious now, her eyes wide and solemn. “I know I sort of bullied you into it, but it made a really big difference. Did you ever have something happen and all you could do afterward was replay it over and over in your head?”

Then, because she is who she is and knows what she knows, she winces like she’s been hurt. “Of course you have. I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for. But yes, now that you mention it, I have. I know how it feels when all you want is for your brain to give you a break already. It’s sick, isn’t it? Going through the same shitty experience over and over, like that’s going to change anything.”

“Exactly. All I want to do is forget about it. I want to forget him. I want to forget…” Whether she does it consciously or not, she runs a hand over the top of her head. I have to wonder if she remembers how beautiful she looked that night. Like a queen, like a goddess.

I wish I could tell her she’s still a goddess. A stronger one, a warrior. But I don’t have the words—and if I did, I don’t know if she would want to hear them from me. I’m not the man who should be saying those things. She deserves to hear it from somebody who could give her a future. A life. All I can give her is pain, the way I have so far.

I really, truly need to get out of this bed. I’m losing my grip here.

Instead of getting up like a sane, reasonable man, I take the chance of running a hand down her arm. “I don’t know that we ever forget things like that. But the memory will fade. And you’ll make other memories. Those good memories will crowd out the bad ones. Who knows, one day you’ll wake up and that whole nightmare will only be something that happened to you once. A long, long time ago. It won’t have any power over you anymore.”

“Who are you?” she whispers. “Who are you, really? Don’t pretend you’re the person I first met. You could be partly him, but the rest of you? What’s that all about?”

I wish I knew what she wants me to say. I wish there was a way of expressing myself that wouldn’t leave me coming off like a complete jackass. “Nobody is entirely one thing or another, are they?”

“I guess that’s true.”

“I used to watch sports, you know. I used to play, too. In college, I was on the football team. I was never going to go pro, but I was good. And I enjoyed it.”

She moves a little closer, her eyes lighting up. “What else? What else is there about you?”

“I don’t want to bore you.”

“I don’t think you could. But I’ve been wondering about you all this time.”

“I used to read a lot more than I do now.” What is this? Therapy time? But she looks so hopeful for some reason I can’t imagine, and there’s something to be said for talking quietly in bed together and forgetting the rest of the world exists for a little while. It’s almost sacred. I don’t dare raise my voice above a whisper, and not only because I don’t want anyone overhearing from the hall. I don’t want to break whatever magic is weaving itself around us.

Did I seriously just consider it magic?

“What did you like to read?”

“Mysteries, thrillers, some history as well. Biographies. I think I was halfway through Teddy Roosevelt’s when I lost all my free time all of a sudden.”

“I saw that book down in the library.”

“I’m sure it still has my bookmark where I left it.”

“So long as you don’t fold pages down to mark your place.”

“Oh, good God, do you think I’m some kind of monster?” She bursts out laughing before pressing her face against the pillow to muffle it. I can’t help but laugh, too, though I know I have no room to do it.

I also have no room to reach for her, to pull her close and laugh with her in my arms. So why do I want to so badly? I even start to reach out when she isn’t looking, then pull my hands back before she sees. “I better get going.”

“Oh. Okay.” There’s a wounded look in her eyes, but she can handle it. What’s the alternative? Getting too close to me, getting hurt worse as a result? This is nothing compared to that.

“I’m sure Jock is already wondering where I am.” I gather up my clothes, knowing very well how this would look to anyone who might see me out in the hall. True, I’m their boss, and I sure as hell shouldn’t care what they think. But I can’t shake the sense of going on a walk of shame, carrying my clothes and shoes, even if I’m only walking down the hall in my own home.

“See you later?” The hope in her voice warms and concerns me at the same time. I don’t want her sounding that way when she’s talking about me. I love the fact that she does.

“You know where to find me.” I have to make a quick exit or else risk doing something stupid like giving her a kiss before leaving. If I didn’t know better, I would think I’m a little afraid of her. What she does to me, how she makes me feel.

The hallway is empty, but there are footsteps on the stairs telling me someone is coming up. I hustle down the hall and make it to my room before glancing over my shoulder to find Jock rounding the banister. He pauses for a second, frowning, but barely misses a step on his way to me.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he explains. “So has Paul Giordano. Things have escalated.”

And just like that, my day begins.

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