Page 79 of The Devil’s Lair

“I’m sorry I disturbed you.”

“You didn’t.”

He gestures to the mug in my hand. “Is that what the milk is for? Can’t sleep?”

“Yeah, it happens sometimes. My brain gets busy, and I can’t switch off.”

“Insomnia is no fun. Xan used to suffer terribly. Less so now with Imogen.”

One corner of my mouth curves in a crooked smile. “The love of a good woman, huh?”

A chuckle rumbles through his chest. “It seems so.”

Ask me to stay. Ask me, and I will.

“Well, goodnight. Maybe we could have breakfast together in the morning,” he says instead.

“I’d like that.”

“As it’s Saturday, and I’m not working, perhaps I could give Isla another riding lesson if the weather holds up?”

I can’t help but notice how the invitation is for Isla and not for her and me. It further cements the truth that this will never be anything more than what it is: a friendship. I should be content with that. I am content. I have to be.

“I’m sure she’d love to.”

“Great. Well, try to get some sleep. Hope the milk helps.”

“Thanks.”

I head back to my rooms and drink the milk.

It doesn’t help one bit.

Chapter Twenty-Four

TOBIAS

After Rebecca left last night, I didn’t sleep at all. No matter how much I tried to recall the details of the nightmare I had, they remained stubbornly out of reach. Calling for Mum, too? What the hell was that about? I miss my mum, sure, but she died a long time ago, and I’m not a child any longer.

The lingering remnants of the nightmare wasn’t the only reason I couldn’t sleep. I’d curbed the urge to ask Rebecca to stay with me, but the regret from having not reached out tasted bitter on my tongue. It’s for the best, though. We both agreed on the boundaries to our relationship, and I won’t ruin a wonderful friendship by telling her that my feelings for her have grown in a different direction.

I wanted to kiss her.

God, how I wanted to kiss her.

Yet I can’t act on that urge.

Besides, even if I did, the chances are I’d feel the same revulsion I have with every other potential sexual partner I’ve attempted intimacy with in the past. Even with Rebecca, the thought of her hands on my bare skin causes a ball of anxiety to settle in my stomach.

But what if the reality was different?

I douse that little voice in petrol and set it on fire. Rebecca has been through so much trauma. To be the one who adds to that, when she was upfront about her feelings from the very beginning, is a shit move from an even shittier person. She’s my friend, and that’s enough.

It’s enough.

Maybe if I repeat it often, I’ll begin to believe it.

When I show up for breakfast, Rebecca and Isla are in the dining room. Rebecca is deep in conversation with Christian and Grace. I hover in the doorway for a couple of seconds, watching my wife and my stepdaughter interact so freely with my brother and sister-in-law. Since she began therapy, Isla has blossomed into a confident little girl who has no issues communicating what she wants without the need for speech. Rebecca, too, stands taller now, no longer braced for the next blow. If I never do another good deed in my life, this one is my ticket into Heaven. Although God would probably say it wasn’t a selfless good deed, and he’d be right.