AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Nathan
What the fuck am I doing? I left Callie alone in my room when I knew she wasn’t okay. I could see the way her shoulders sagged, and I still turned and walked away. I’m a coward. When I was applying the bandage to her wrists I could feel her eyes on me, studying me. I felt it as intensely as if she were touching me, and when she gripped my hand so delicately, I felt like I’d been donkey-kicked in the chest. I ran away from it and was afraid if I got within reach again I wasn’t going to be able to stop myself from touching her, holding her, wanting her.
I know I can’t have her. She has been through too much and I refuse to make her feel like my help comes with strings attached. I blow out the breath I’ve been holding. What a fuckin’ day.
I close my eyes and listen to the last remnants of the fire crackling. The couch is comfortable and I’d normally have no problem sleeping, but my thoughts keep drifting back to my house guest. Knowing she is lying in my bed, wearing my clothes… fuck me. Maybe this is a curse, the universe handed me the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, and there is no way I can have her. Maybe all that I’m meant to do is to help get her back on her feet, repentance for all the shit I’ve done wrong in my life.
I spend the next few hours sleeping restlessly. I even dream about Chester for the first time in months. We were at the bar again, sitting next to each other drinking beer…
“You think you’ll ever get married, Nate?”
“Doubt it. I don’t think I’m the marrying type.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know what the hell I want with my life. How am I supposed to bring a wife into that? A family? I’d fuck it up for sure.”
Chester laughs, ordering us another round of beers, “You’re a good guy, you won’t fuck it up because you’re too stubborn to lose. Trust me, I’ve been runner-up to you too many times to count.”
I laugh, punching his shoulder. “I guess if you’re there to tell me when I’m fucking things up, I’ll be okay.”
* * *
I wake up around 6 a.m. feeling the familiar ache in my chest that I get after thinking about my old friend. With no chance of falling back asleep, I decided to slip into my room to get fresh clothes.
I quietly open the bedroom door and look inside, making sure Callie’s still asleep. She’s curled up on my side of the bed with the sheets tangled around her legs, her arms are wrapped tightly around herself. Unable to help myself, I silently walk over and lift the blankets up to her shoulders, thinking she might be cold. She stirs slightly but doesn’t wake up. Even in her sleep, she exudes a feeling from me that I’m not ready to face. I’ve never ached to lay in my bed like I do right now though, and it has everything to do with her.
I force myself over to my walk-in closet, shutting the door behind me quietly, the light flickering on automatically once I’m inside. Changing into jeans and a t-shirt, I pull out my sig, and the holster. I’m not sure where the events of today will lead us, but I’m not one to leave the house unprepared.
Tucking my gun into the holster inside the front of my waistband, it slides into place with a click. I’m pulling on my boots when I hear my name from inside my room, “Nathan?”
“Sorry, I was trying to be quiet so I wouldn’t wake you up,” I say, exiting the closet. She is sitting up clutching the blankets to her chest. Her hair is even wilder than it was last night. She looks tired still, her eyes slightly puffy and red, probably from all the crying yesterday. The bruise on her forehead is purple, but it looks like it’s starting to heal. Aside from the cut on her lip that already looks to be healing too, she looks perfect. From injuries… perfect from injuries.
“My whole body hurts. I feel like I got run over by a bus,” her voice still gravely from sleep.
“I was afraid that was gonna happen. How’s your head feeling?” I ask. She tentatively reaches up and touches her bruise, but doesn’t flinch which is a good sign.
“I have a little bit of a headache, but it’s okay.” She offers a sleepy smile that just about knocks me on my ass. What I would do to see her smile at me again and again? Fuck. I can’t think like that. I leave the room to retrieve some pain reliever, needing a distraction so I stop staring at her.
“Take two of these and try to get some more sleep, it’s still pretty early. I’ll call the Sheriff’s office around 8 a.m. to see if I can get in touch with someone about coming in to talk.” I hand her the pills, “Do you want water? Or I can get you some orange juice.”
“Orange juice would be great, thank you,” she stretches, groaning in discomfort, causing the t-shirt to ride up, exposing her bare stomach. I try not to let her notice how my breath catches in my throat, so I quickly leave the room again to get a glass from the kitchen. I’ve never run away from anyone in my life, like a scared kid.
Put me in any hostile situation and I’ll face it head on with a cool head. Tell me to jump out of a helicopter, I’ll jump without any concern. Raid a bunker that houses a terrorist organization? Gladly. Communicate with a traumatized human being who looks like she could be the embodiment of all the good in this world when all I know is the bad? Totally foreign to me.
When I get back to the room she looks like she is zoned out, staring in the direction of the floor, but not focused on anything. I’ve seen that look before, from soldiers who have been through some terrible shit. I sit down on the edge of the bed, refusing to stay ten feet away from her anymore.
“You okay?” That is all I can come up with as I hand her the juice. She snaps out of it quickly, returning to reality.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Another soft smile.
“You don’t have to fake it for me. If you aren’t fine, it’s okay. You went through hell yesterday. I’ve seen well-trained men go catatonic for days after being shot at, let alone having the barrel of a gun pointed in their face,” I tell her honestly.
She takes a moment to swallow the pain pills back with her drink, “I think the only reason I haven’t completely fallen apart is you.”
I’m taken aback by that, not sure what to say. “I just got lucky being there at the right place, right time. You’re stronger than you know,” I tell her.
“I don’t feel strong,” she says with a tight voice. We sit in silence as she finishes her orange juice and sets the glass on the side table next to the bed.
