Her hesitation kills me. “I don’t think you’d physically hurt me or force me to do anything.”
“Well, that’s something, I guess. You know I wouldn’t hit you or rape you. Pretty low fucking bar.” Backing away, I slide down the wall next to the bathroom until my ass is on the floor. I cover my face with my hands, so fucking done with all of this. Why did I believe Colt when he implied Cara had feelings for me? She very obviously doesn’t. Or if she does, it’s a wisp of a feeling, easily set aside.
“Are you okay,” she asks quietly.
A humorless laugh escapes. “Sure. Just peachy.” I shove the heels of my hands into my eye sockets, willing my eyes to stop watering. “I’ll end this. I promise. When we finally get to Vegas or home or wherever the fuck you want to go, I’ll make sure they stop interfering.”
I drop my hands, resting my head on the wall. “I am very aware of the power dynamic here. I might not be your direct boss, but I am aware that you’re my employee. I always have been. And you shouldn’t have been put in this position. I’ll handle it. I promise.”
Her flinch when I say employee, clearly hits a nerve. We’ve never treated her like an employee. We’ve always, all nine of us, blurred that line with her. Have since the beginning. But for me, the idea of being her boss was laughable. She’s far more suited to being a boss than I am. I figured out how to handle my group of IT geeks, and only there do I feel in charge. I understand my place, and I have no fucking problem running it. But with her, honestly, she felt like the boss. But I can’t ignore the unequal power dynamic anymore.
“Right. You’re right. You’re my boss.” We sit, staring, the weight of this conversation hanging between us. Both exhausted, physically, but more so emotionally. Pushing up, I grab my bag, pulling some sweats on over my shorts. Then my last hoodie. I check my coat, hanging on the back of the chair. Still soaking wet.
Cara’s eyes widen as I cross to the bed. I give her a tight smile as I pull a pillow off the bed, and drop it on the floor near the door, then drop and stretch out. I feel better having my body between the door and the bed. It’s unlikely we’ll have trouble, but who the fuck knows who else is out there. I won’t let anyone, or anything, get to her.
“Declan...are you going to be okay on the floor?”
“Yeah. I spent more than a year sleeping on the floor, remember? We all had sleeping bags when we started Knight Street. I’ll be fine.” There were a half-dozen of us crashing in the studio apartment above our first garage. It was a fucking puppy pile. For years.
“You’re in your thirties now, Declan. I don’t think it’s going to be the same.”
I search for a thread of humor. A tiny bit of levity, though a boulder is sitting on my chest. “You calling me old, woman?”
Finally, I get a hint of a smile. “Fine. Be a martyr. Sleep on the floor...there are no extra blankets.”
“Go to sleep, Cara. I’ll be fine.”
She hums, reaching out to flick off the hideous bedside lamp, plunging the room into near darkness. I lay, staring at the light playing on the ceiling, the blowing snow turning the sky a dusky purple, listening to her sigh as she snuggles in. She may have worried about me sleeping on the floor, but unspoken between us is the knowledge that she didn’t invite me to share the bed. She doesn’t trust me. There’s a canyon between feeling safe enough to sleep in the same room and knowing I’d never hurt her. A canyon I don’t know how to cross.
“DECLAN.”
The voice registers at the same time as I feel her hand on my shoulder. I’m moving before I realize it, reaching for her.
“What’s the matter? Are you okay?” The room is so much darker than it was when I fell asleep. I can only see a faint outline of her crouched next to me. The frigid temperature of the room registers next. Her skin is like ice. “Jesus, you’re freezing.” I’m up and guiding her back to the bed.
“I’m fine. I can’t get the heat up any higher, though, and I can hear your teeth chattering from over here. You can’t stay on the floor, Declan. It’s too cold.”
Pausing, I realize she’s right. I’m shaking. She guides me to the edge of the bed, then moves away, coming back with the pillow.
“Get in. Under the covers. Come on.”
I follow her instructions because I am really fucking cold. The bed doesn’t feel that much warmer, but when she crawls in on the other side, my body starts generating heat all by itself. I’m afraid to move. To spook her. To make her change her mind. Checking my watch, I see it’s only been an hour since we fell asleep.
“Is this okay?” I whisper. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“This whole trip has been uncomfortable, Declan. But I don’t want you miserable on the floor all night.” I would argue, but she’s right. No way would I have stayed asleep much longer. My entire body is quaking.
“I don’t think I’ve been this cold since I was a kid.” I can’t stop fussing with the blankets, trying to make sure she stays covered while I wiggle around until I feel them drop over my back. “And you’re right...I am not built for the floor. I’ve gone soft. Money’s made me soft.”
She laughs, “So soft. I mean, you sleep in beds now and everything.” I laugh with her, thankful the tension between us is broken.
“You’re safe with me. I promise. I would never physically hurt you. I know you know that. But I’ll be careful with all of you. I swear it.”
She’s quiet. I can feel the heat radiating from her, even over the foot that separates us. I’m on the bed, but as far as I can get to the edge without falling off.
I startle when I feel her hand on my arm. The touch is hot, even through my sweater. She slides it down until her palm is pressed to mine, our fingers interlacing on the mattress between us. Her simple touch grounds me like nothing else has in weeks.
“Okay,” she whispers into the darkness.
