“I don’t know how to do this,” he continues. “I don’t know how to want you and be your boss. I don’t know how to keep you close without trapping you.” A pause. “I’m trying to figure out how to do this without becoming another person who takes your choices away.”
Oh.
Oh.
He wasn’t pulling away because he regretted it. He was pulling away because he was terrified of what he’d done. Of what he might do.
“That’s why you went cold,” I say slowly. “In the cabin. After.”
“I had you half-naked on a cot in a line shack.” His voice is harsh. “You work for me. You need this job. And I just—” He exhales. “I took advantage of the situation. Again.”
“You didn’t take advantage of anything.”
“Didn’t I?”
“I kissed you first.” I twist to look at him again, and this time I don’t care if Captain Winky objects. “I chose this. You asked me about fifteen times if I was sure. That’s not taking advantage.”
His jaw is still tight. “The power imbalance?—”
“Is real,” I cut in. “I know it’s real. You’re my boss. If you become my landlord, if this goes wrong, I lose everything.” I hold his gaze. “I’m not an idiot, Daniel. I know the risks.”
“Then why?—”
“Because I wanted to.” The words come out fiercer than I intended. “Because for once in my goddamn life, I wanted something for myself and I took it. Don’t turn that into something you did to me.”
He stares at me. The rigid tension in his shoulders shifts into something else. Something almost like wonder.
“You’re kind of terrifying,” he says. “You know that?”
“I’ve been told.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. Not quite a smile, but close.
“Move to Stoneridge,” he says again. But this time it sounds different. Less command, more request. “Please. Your own room. Your own space. Rent if you want—I don’t care about the money, but if it makes you feel better, fine.”
“And if this”—I gesture vaguely between us—“doesn't work out?”
“Then you still have a job and a place to live.” His arm tightens around my waist. “I’m not going to punish you for my mistakes, Delaney. That’s not who I am.”
I want to believe him. I want to so badly it scares me.
“I have conditions,” I say.
“Name them.”
“I pay rent. Market rate, not some token amount to make me feel better.”
“Done.”
“My own schedule. You don’t get to track my comings and goings.”
“I’ll try.” He pauses. “I can’t promise I won’t worry.”
“Worry quietly, then.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“And this—” I gesture between us again. “We figure it out as we go. No promises. No expectations. We see what happens.”
