What the hell was I thinking? I shouldn’t have done it—I know that. But I was just laying there, warm and cozy, and it smelled like him and I knew he’d been laying in that very same spot, and one thing led to another, and…
I ended up falling out of bed with my hand between my legs. Freaking mortifying.
“Why don’t you go upstairs and soak in the tub?” Tobias’s fingers continue to move, like he’s struggling not to reach for me again. “It will help you feel better.”
I highly doubt that, but it certainly won’t make me feel any worse.
And I could probably use a minute to myself. A little time to figure out how in the heck I’m going to manage living in the same house as the new and improved Tobias Bradshaw.
Without accidentally asking him to please fuck me until I forget everything.
Deep down I was really hoping I would never have to tell anybody what happened. That I could just sort of walk away from Matt and never think about him again.
It’s not seeming like that’s going to be the case, and the possibility makes me sick. I wanted to get away from Matt, and physically, I did. But if I allow what he did to me to continue affecting everything I do, then I didn’t really get away at all. I’m still letting him dictate what I do. How I think. How I feel.
Who I am.
It’s bullshit.
Keeping my eyes on the floor, I nod. “Yeah. That sounds good.” Spinning away, I make a beeline for the staircase, hurrying up the steps. Reaching Tobias’s bedroom, I go straight to the bathroom, ignoring his bed as I pass.
How many other women have slept there? Women who—unlike me—probably didn’t sleep alone. Women who also know how safe it feels when Tobias holds them close.
The bathroom door slams behind me. Weird. I didn’t think I yanked on it that hard.
I shrug and start to peel away his clothes, hating myself for so many things as I run a tub full of hot water and dip beneath the surface. I sit, fully submerged, until it’s too cold to stay, then climb out feeling just as morose as I did going in.
I guess at least it didn’t get worse, right?
Wrapping the big towel I used after my shower last nightaround my body, I leave the bathroom, walking into a shockingly tidy bedroom. After falling out of bed at Tobias’s unexpected arrival, I’d picked all the covers up and tossed them onto the mattress, but hadn’t done more than that.
I sure as hell hadn’t made the bed, smoothing every blanket and pillow so there wasn’t a single wrinkle in sight. I also hadn’t carefully laid out a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt.
I didn’t even hear Tobias come in—possibly because I was literally stewing over the thought of him with other women—but he was obviously busy while I bathed. The whole room is just as pristine as it was last night when he brought me up here.
I was too tired and sick and under the influence of cold medicine to ask many questions about the space. All I did was take a quick shower, fish around for something close to put on, and curl up under the blankets. It wasn’t until I woke up that I put two and two together and figured out Tobias had put me in his room and not a guest room.
And now he’s encouraging me to wear more of his clothes. I would’ve been happy to put on the ones I slept in, but they’re nowhere in sight. He must have swiped them while he was cleaning up. Left with no other options, I pull on the pants and T-shirt, working my hair into a quick braid since I don’t have my products or diffuser.
Steeling myself for whatever questions are coming my way, I head downstairs.
To discover an empty house.
Not totally empty, because Copper and Bruno are curled up together in one of the dog beds, but there’s no sign of Tobias anywhere. Not in the kitchen that’s just as clean as his bedroom. Not in the office at the front of the house. Not in the great room. Not even in the garage.
He’s just… Gone.
After looking around the space where he stores all his cars, I wander back into the kitchen, feeling weird about being in his house without him here. I reach the island where we’ve shared a few meals together, and my eyes snag on a piece of paper I hadn’t noticed during my first pass.
It’s plain—no lines or design of any kind—with a handwritten note at the top.
Brooke,
Went to get your things from my parents’. Be back soon. Pick a movie and hydrate.
T—
A pen sits on the counter next to the paper, and I pick it up, smirking a little as I write beneath his slanted words.
