“I don’t really have a good reason,” he admitted, shaking his head.
I paused, then found myself blurting out his name.
“Jay,” I said, hating how wonderful it tasted on my tongue.
His eyes closed, and then, as if he couldn’t stay upright any longer, he leaned forward, his forehead meeting my shoulder. I didn’t move, didn’t dare shift a single muscle. His hair tickled my cheek, and I felt him sigh against me.
It was only for a second. Then the weight of his head lifted, and his lips ever so slightly brushed my ear.
“I don’t know how much longer I can stay away from you.”
It was one thing to allude to whatever this was between us. But to say it out loud was like an X-ray causing a photoelectric effect—the kind that ionizes an atom and causes direct biological damage. There was no going back. Things had been rearranged. Just like those stupid subatomic particles I’d seen in my textbooks.
I shook my head, trying and failing to steady my rapid heartbeat, now thrumming in my ears. “I promise that getting close to me will only make things complicated,” I whispered, the begging tangible in my voice.
“Is complicated so bad?” he questioned, pulling further away and giving me a bit more space.
I was grateful for the momentary distance and felt my lungs finally take in a full breath again.
“Complicated is… well, complicated.” I struggled to find the words to explain rationally why this could never possibly happen between us. The dentist argument was beginning to chip away like crumbling stone on an already withering structure.
Jay chuckled, backing up a few feet now and slipping his hands into his pockets. “I know you have a lot of fears, Hope.” He started toward the stairwell. “I just hope one day I won’t be one of them anymore.”
I wanted to tell him, with absolute certainty, that I wasn’t afraid of him. Convince him and me that I really did believe he would never harm me physically or emotionally. But it wasn’t just about that anymore.
If I were being honest, I liked my job at the clinic. I was starting to regain my confidence. And I really didn’t want to do something that could jeopardize the minuscule amount of stability I’d created here.
I failed to find words to respond to him, and then he was heading back down the stairwell.
“Get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.” He gave me a small smile, then disappeared to his half of the house.
When I heard the door echo shut down at the base of the stairwell, I reached up, running my hands through my hair and tugging on the strands.
“Ugh,” I let out another mildly unhinged growl of frustration and went to sit on the couch.
I slumped into the cushions, snatched a decorative pillow from beside me, and screamed into it.
CHAPTER 30
Iwoke the next morning to a throbbing headache in my temple. When I opened my eyes, discomfort hit almost instantly. I sucked in a sharp breath and carefully reached up to touch my stitches.
I’d hit my head on a step after talking with Tyler.
Jay had stitched me up.
Jay had insisted on checking up on me every few hours.
And I had, in fact, moaned his name in my sleep like a hormonal idiot.
“Fantastic,” I muttered, allowing myself a dramatic little wince as I went to find some medicine.
On the counter was a glass of water and two little pills. He must’ve come to check on me once more without my knowing.
I gratefully downed the Tylenol and then made myself some coffee. Thankfully I had a few days to rest until my next shift. I wanted to take it easy the next few days. When I got hurt, I was a bit of a wimp actually.
I was looking forward to sitting in my bed while reading one of my favorite books and nursing my wounds: the head injury and my dignity.
Just as I sat down on the couch to pull a blanket over myself and wallow, I heard the doorbell ring.
