Page 11 of Loving You

I nodded, hoping my tone communicated what I needed to say better than my fumbling words. “I know we’re not… close. But I’m concerned about you.”

Her face blanked instantly, as though any effort she’d made to keep it formed into something vaguely upbeat had drained out of her, and her throat worked as she swallowed. “I’m fine.”

I didn’t need to respond to that, and she knew it. She pressed her lips together and glanced away, blinking rapidly as though to stave off tears.

Well, shit.

I didn’t want her to cry. I wanted her to do the opposite of cry.

I wanted her to… laugh. Or hell, even yell at me. Crack an inappropriate joke and give me one of those lazy, challenging smiles that sent my pulse racing.

Anything that would put to rest that nagging fear that she was afraid of something. Or someone.

“I’m sorry. If I’ve overstepped, I’ll—”

“No. You’re right. I haven’t been myself lately.”

I’d never been less happy to be right, but relief swept in. She admitted it, which meant I could help. “I’m sorry. What can I do?”

She stared at me, her face shifting from that pale, empty look to something wary.

I couldn’t stand it, so before she could even speak, I blustered in again. “Please, April. I want to help you. If there’s anything I can do, please tell me. If you need help, I’ll—”

“I’m not sleeping well.” Her lips clamped shut like she hadn’t planned to let those words out.

“Any particular reason?”

A beat passed during which I convinced myself she wouldn’t give me more, but then she spoke. “I’m… having some trouble. I—I don’t want to get into details, but the worry over it is keeping me awake. When I do fall asleep it’s fitful at best, and the exhaustion is apparently accumulating.”

My mind snagged on her interest in my security system when she was at my house. It wasn’t a particularly sexy part of the home, but she’d asked several questions about it.

Troublewas so vague, but she lived alone at her apartment. I hadn’t heard about any safety issues in her neighborhood, but it had to be something along those lines.

“And before you ask, I’ve tried sleeping pills. Didn’t like them. Plus, it’s not really something I can ignore. I’m trying to figure out how to handle it, but in the meantime, please accept my apology. I didn’t realize I’d been so… obvious.”

My eyes narrowed. Did she really think she needed to apologize to me for being tired? “You don’t owe me an apology or anything else, April. You’ve done great work and other than being late for one meeting—which you’ve already apologized for—I wouldn’t have known anything was going on.”

“Unless?”

Unless I was observing you carefully every time we interact.

Unless I’vealwaysdone that and noticed the gradual change in you over the last six months.

Unless I found myself preoccupied with why that light in your eyes has dimmed.

None of that would do, and maybe this was all sounding a bit too personal, so I tried a different tack, more along the lines of how we used to communicate. “I simply noticed you don’t seem to be your usual obnoxious self.”

She blinked slow like she wasn’t impressed, and I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of my mouth.

“We can’t all have sticks up our asses, Mr. Walker.”

A reluctant laugh escaped, but I wouldn’t be fooled by her attempts to distract me from the larger issue. “Fair enough, Ms. Carrigan. But now you need to know—you’re not alone. I’m in your corner, ready to help you figure this problem out, and I think I have an idea.”

Her mouth dropped open like I’d never said anything more shocking in my life.

Maybe I hadn’t.

To be fair, it was a presumptuous statement. I’d overtly made her problem mine and we weren’t even friends. Or, if we were, we were new, fledgling friends. Not thick-and-thin friends who came to one another’s rescue.

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