Page 26 of Falling for Carla

He could have told me so many things about my mom, given me details about her, stories about her that I would’ve treasured. He could have even talked to me about why he wanted to marry me off at sixteen to a Lombardi son to secure his own interests and if he ever had any consideration for me as a person or cared about me at all. I wished I could ask him if he had regrets. I know I did.

Trying to choke back the sobs didn’t work, so I stood there and cried. For myself and for the loss of a link to my mom and the relationship we didn’t try to repair as father and daughter, and because I was basically alone in the world and the normal life I had known at Berkley was over, too.

I was again a pawn in a very dangerous game just as I’d been as a child hiding out in a safe house learning to roll meatballs alongside my mom and brother. Only this time my mom was dead, my brother had chosen to serve the same brutal business that took our mom from us and now our father too. I felt myself tremble and I crossed my arms over my stomach trying to hold some of the sorrow, trying to hold myself together somehow.

When strong arms closed around me, I leaned gratefully back against the wall of Drake’s chest, hard and warm. He rested his chin on my head and held me, supporting me completely and holding me up as I cried.

CHAPTER 21

DRAKE

God forgive me, it felt good to hold her at last. When she sank back against me, I felt it all the way to my soul, the trust and relief and desperation she felt. Eventually I turned her around in my arms so she could burrow against my chest, which she did.

She snuggled into me, her sobs slowing down. I kissed her hair and her temple, whispered to her that I was here, that I had her. That she was safe. Carla fit against me perfectly, like a puzzle piece slotting into place.

When her sobs subsided, she nestled her cheek over my heart for a moment and I felt it. I felt her reluctance to let go, the way she lingered, indulging in the physical contact, the warmth and closeness. I cleared my throat and released her from my arms.

I took a step back from her as she loosened her arms from around me and let them fall to her sides. The truth was that I didn’t want to take advantage of her, and I was alarmed by whatever feelings I was developing for her, feelings I wasn’t willing to explore.

“Thank you for being so kind,” she said, formal and distant now. I nodded and made a gruff noise, dismissing her thanks.

“I can show you the guest room. I’ll move some things out of your way, my free weights are in there.”

“You don’t have to move your things,” she protested.

“It’s going to be a while before you can leave, and I want you to be comfortable and know you have your own space. There’s a lock on the door as well.”

“Okay,” she said.

I took the key off my key ring and handed it to her. “It opens all the interior doors, and it’s the only copy. You’ll have privacy.”

“Are you telling me to lock you out of my bedroom?” she asked, understanding too much.

“I’m only offering you some privacy you can be sure of.”

“You haven’t shown any signs of being unable to resist me,” she said wryly.

“Then you haven’t been paying attention,” I said before I could stop myself. Surprised, she caught my eye and held my gaze. I could see that I shouldn’t have said it.

“I’m sorry. I’ve made you uncomfortable. I can assure you that I won’t—”

“I know you wouldn’t,” she interrupted, “you haven’t made me uncomfortable. You surprised me by admitting it. Admitting that I wasn’t the only one.”

“The only one what?” I asked, wanting her to say it, craven in my need to hear the words.

“I’ve had what my roommate calls a crush on you since the first day in your class. I wouldn’t call it a crush,” she said.

“What would you call it?”

“Crushes are what you get on the singer from a boy band when you’re thirteen years old. This isn’t the sort of thing where I have a poster of you on my wall or watch a YouTube video of you getting out of a pool over and over again just to see you with your shirt off,” she said.

“That’s specific,” I said with a chuckle. “So what is it?”

“I’d call it lust. The destructive, biblical kind that ruins everything in its path.”

I couldn’t say anything to that because she wasn’t wrong about the power of this attraction or it’s wrongness, it’s potential consequences for my job, for her reputation and the integrity of us both. I sighed and ran a hand over my hair.

“I think that’s—”

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