Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 85228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
I have no idea what she told Jericho and Lark or if she even had a conversation with Zara, Cora, or Aspen, but I know better than to think I can just get her into the room she has been provided and ignore the way I acted when I came into the house. Despite not thinking I owe anyone an explanation, I know one is going to be demanded of me, especially from Hemlock. As much as I'm not looking forward to it, I know it's better to get it over with.
This might be a lot easier to deal with if I actually understood it myself.
"I'm glad you're safe," she says, making me wonder if she'd cringe if I pulled off my shirt and let her see the bruises blooming on my skin from where my vest stopped the bullets meant to kill me.
Would she still feel safe around me if she knew just how dangerous our jobs were?
"I'm glad you're here," I whisper when she opens her bedroom door, chuckling a little when Kiva darts between our legs toward the dog bed situated on the far side of the room.
I know better than to think the little dog will actually sleep there. The night I spent in her bed, that damn dog was smack in the middle between us. When the dog shifted its weight, Caitlyn moved to accommodate it, not the other way around.
As much as I want to wrap my arms around her and just sink into the bed, holding her while we sleep, I reach down, giving her hand a little squeeze before taking a step back.
"Get some rest, baby," I whisper before releasing her hand.
She blinks up at me, her tongue skating out to dampen her lips. Although it makes me think that she's picturing kissing me, there's no way I could do that right now.
I still feel so fucking raw from not being there when she needed me the most, and I don't know that I could respect her boundaries if I got my mouth on her right now. The last thing I want is to be one more thing she has to work through in therapy.
"Will you be able to rest soon?" she asks, concern lacing her tone.
"Soon," I promise. "I have to debrief first."
I have to walk away before deciding that it's the best idea ever to follow her into the room she has been provided. It's all I really want to do honestly.
I race down the stairs, thinking that some distance between the two of us will let my head clear a little, but the space offers no relief.
I head into the kitchen, grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and take a seat at the breakfast bar, waiting for what I know is about to come.
We won't debrief the Adair situation until the morning, but I know a conversation with Jericho is coming, and I might as well get the shit over with.
As if on cue, the man walks into the kitchen, his eyes on mine as if he's trying to read my mind.
"Listen," I begin, grinding my teeth when he holds his hand up to silence me.
His inability to even let me speak my piece feels disrespectful even though I don't know what I was planning on saying in the first place.
"Aspen told me weeks ago that I was wrong for putting restrictions on whatever it was that was going on between you and Dr. Rudd," he says before pulling in a long breath. "I think maybe she was right."
I tilt my head to the side, a little confused as if I missed part of the conversation.
"It's very apparent that the two of you care a lot for each other."
My first instinct is to shake my head, to reject his observation, but the man just witnessed me coming into the house all wide-eyed and worried until I had my arms around her. There's no real way to deny that we have some sort of connection, and it feels like it would be disrespecting Caitlyn if I said otherwise right now.
"I have to trust that if that situation blows up, it won't affect my son."
I register the warning in his tone and dip my head in understanding. Without another word, he leaves the room. I sit at the bar, finishing my bottle of water and fighting the urge to go to her for half an hour.
When I find it more than a little difficult to keep my eyes open, I put my empty bottle in the recycling bin and head up the stairs, doing my best and failing when I try not to look at her door.
The fact that she's under the same roof is as much a relief to me as it is a complication, and I know my next conversation needs to be with her about our expectations.