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I’m wound up about this guy…and for good reason. He held me last night, wore a heavy cross around his neck, cleaned up after me, and left a cryptic memento with a promise to return when my period is over.

What is this becoming?

Chapter Twelve

Robby

I have to see her again. Absolutely fucking have to. My restless hands grip the steering wheel.

I’ll suffocate if I don’t.

I kissed her a week ago, thinking I could stay away, but I just want to do it again. Again and again until she’s in too deep to mind our history. Until then, I’ll keep this thing going for her. Why am I still dwelling on this?

For closure, you idiot.

I decide tonight has to be an Appa and Rook night, and she’s not getting any warning. I want her surprised, maybe a little scared, but ultimately, jumping into my arms when I show up. As I drive to her, I let my mind run amok, tuning out the road noise.

I slip inside the house through her hacked front door lock. I imagine hearing her rustling in a kitchen cabinet, maybe after a late-night snack, but I’m going to be the snack tonight. I nudge the light switch in the kitchen before she even knows I’m there. I’ll find her in a tank top and nothing else, barefoot, but not pregnant unless she forgot her pill. Intentionally or unintentionally is her choice if she ever ‘forgets’ it. She’ll scream at the intrusion at first, and that’s okay because she’ll already be wet if history repeats itself. Then, I’ll fuck her against the counter until we’re both shaking.

I nod my head.

Yes, good plan.

But when I pull up to her house, it’s dark with no glow coming from any of the oversize windows. She isn’t expecting me, nor is it late, but she could be in bed waiting. I remotely unlock her front door from my car with the tap of a button. I kill the silent motor of my electric car and head up the short pathway to her front door. Gravel crunches under my sneakers. There’s no car in her driveway, but there usually isn’t. Based on the stories she posted today, she should be home and not on a brand trip.

I open the already unlocked front door, and my eyes have to adjust to the dark house, dimly lit by the moonlight spilling through the glass windows. It’s silent other than the static buzz of the refrigerator, and maybe a washer or dryer running down a hall. I walk toward the main living room with no sign of her anywhere. I peek around the high-backed chair I originally found her in, but she’s not there.

Upstairs it is.

I quietly make my way up to the next level, and I find her in her room, tucked into bed.

“I’m sorry, Rook, I can’t. Not tonight. No, really, I’m on my period, and it’s excruciating.” Her words trip over each other as she breathlessly tries to get them out, and it lights my stomach on fire that she doesn’t trust me enough not to take advantage of her when she’s clearly in severe pain. She wasn’t waiting patiently for me; she was hoping I’d stay away.

This isn’t the relationship I want to have with her.

At this moment, she’s genuinely terrified. More than the first time I showed up and made her touch my nipples to prove my identity. A blade churns my gut.

I never want her scared of me.

There’s no way she’s consenting, not in this condition, so I’m tagging Robby in and Rook the fuck out. She needs me. Not him.

I pull my shirt over my head when the air conditioning hits my bare torso. “Oh, Apps,” I say softly, still disguising my voice the best I can. My jeans hitting the carpet is the only sound in the room until she gasps and stands up from her cocoon on the bed. She suddenly bends, resting her torso and head on the edge of the bed. This is ridiculous. She goes through this every damn month like clockwork? I lie down on the side she doesn’t use and hold my arms out. “Come here.”

“Why? What are you…?”

“Just trust me, for fuck’s sake,” I snap.

I know you want to, baby.

As soon as she lies back down, I draw her right into my arms. Her skin is cool against mine, but that’s how she’s been every time I’ve touched her. She melts into my warmth. I press my chin to the top of her head. I’ve dreamed for years of what it would be like to have her in my arms all night long. We’re not kissing. Definitely not having sex either. But this is just as good. If not, better because our relationship needs this.

Her icy fingers find the cross resting on my chest, and I let her play with it. She traces the shape with her fingertip before moving her hand and drawing her free arm around my back, grazing her fingertips down my shoulder blade.

Christ, I could never hurt you.

She presses her ear to my chest, and I let my fingers return the favor and run along her small back. My daydream crosses my mind. She’s not skipping her birth control, which is good, but a part of me didn’t like hearing she got her period.

Why would she anyway?