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“I want you to leave,” I repeat.
“I heard you.” He keeps rummaging, though.
I take several sharp breaths and a few very choice, very vulgar words pop into my brain. I consider saying them all, but then I realize it’ll only wind up pissing me off. Instead, I turn on my heel and head for the door.
I gasp in surprise when Nolan catches up with me and presses his palm to the door, halfway boxing me in.
I turn slowly to face him, rage barely contained now. He’s so damn close and so damn big. I look up at him. “You are going to let me leave. Now.”
“I thought I was the one leaving,” he says. There’s no urgency to his words. No panic at all. This is just a game to him.
“Apparently, you’re not. So I’m leaving.”
“And you’re going to go where?” he asks. “You can leave if you convince me you’ve got somewhere safe to stay.”
I scowl. “Like you care?”
He inches his face closer to mine. “Tell me where you’re going to go.” There’s finally something in him that isn’t playful. He’s fully here now–fully focused. It’s almost worse than when it felt like he was toying with me, though. I can barely stand the intensity of him.
I open my mouth, then shake my head. “Andi’s. I can stay with her.”
“Jesse’s back. They’re going to want privacy. Try again.”
I clench my teeth. “Caroline’s, then.”
“Fully booked. I asked Jesse. Want to keep trying?”
The proximity of Nolan’s body and the way his breath feels against my skin is all too much. It’s a stark reminder of a past I’m not sure I can reconcile with the present. But I’m out of options, and he knows it.
His gaze holds a challenge, but there’s also a flicker of real concern he can’t hide–not from me.
“I don’t need your help,” I say. “I can take care of myself.”
His expression softens for the first time. “I know you can. But I’m not letting you go out there in the middle of the night with no plan. And I just finished traveling all day. I’m fucking exhausted. I’m not about to go back out there and screw around finding somewhere else to stay. So you’re stuck here with me, Calloway.”
If I really didn’t care about him, I would just shrug my shoulders and roll with this. That’s what the girl who doesn’t care would do.
“Fine,” I say. “But we’re setting ground rules.”
He finally steps back and pulls his hand away once he knows I’ve given up running. “This should be good.”
I rattle off the first few that come to mind. “Separate rooms. No walking in a room without knocking first. We split chores, and… keep out of each other’s way.”
“Alright,” Nolan says, and I’m almost certain I see the ghost of a smile on those scar-crossed lips. “And we take turns cooking.”
I arch an eyebrow. “You’re planning to grace me with your culinary masterpieces? Do you think showing off is going to make me like you again?”
Now that ghost of a smile is a full-blown grin. “You seemed to appreciate my cooking well enough before.”
Before. The word hangs between us like a neon sign–a reminder of a chapter we’ve both closed in a book neither of us planned to ever pick up again. But here we are, cracking the book open to an earmarked page like we’re about to finish the story.
Thunder rumbles outside. A moment later, lightning flashes and a gust of wind splatters the windows with the first rain. It’s cold enough out there that I know the rain will probably soon turn to snow.
“See?” He says, gesturing to the windows as if it’s one final confirmation that we’re stuck here together–at least for the time being.
I fold my arms and glare at him. And then I have to look away, because my stupid brain starts asking questions I don’t want to hear.
Wouldn’t this be easier if you guys just kissed out your mutual frustrations?
