Once more, she didn’t let him finish.
“I appreciate your offer. I mean that.” Her face had softened a fraction. “However, you wanted time without physical or emotional intimacy. I’m respecting your wishes. Please don’t make that process harder than it already is.”
Without further ado, she removed her arm from his loose grasp and reclaimed a step’s worth of distance.
She might as well have belted him in the gut. The formality of her words, the rejection of his offered comfort, his touch, drove the breath from his lungs.
“You’re right.” He forced out the words. “Of course you’re right. I’m sorry.”
He wanted to vomit.
He’d done this. No one but him.
He’d erected this barricade between them, scared of what might happen without it, and now he couldn’t reach her. Not even when she needed affection and understanding and everything else he had to offer her. Everything else hewantedto offer her.
And if he ever decided to tear down that barricade, he had no idea whether she’d still be waiting on the other side. If she wasn’t, he wouldn’t blame her.
“Griff…” She sighed, her bloodshot eyes sharp on his face. “It’s fine. I’m not angry. Just…trying to do what’s right.”
Fuck, why wasshereassuringhim?
Her attempted smile didn’t last more than a breath. “Don’t worry about me. I suppose I simply need some time too.”
Stupidly, he’d never considered how it would feel to let her hurt alone.
That was his sole option, however. At least for the moment.
“I’ll get out of your way, then.” His legs leaden weights, he moved to the side of the hall. “Please take care of yourself. And if you want me to handle more of our activities this week, just let me know. I’d be happy to help.”
Looking at the state of her, he could hardly believe she’d survived two full days of teaching and various Falling for Poetry projects. If he could ease any of her burdens for the rest of the week, the ones he could still access, he would. Gratefully.
Already turning away, she suddenly snapped her fingers and swiveled back to him. “God, I almost forgot. Yes. Yes, I could use your help.”
“What can I do?” Whatever she needed, he’d take care of it. Anything. Everything.
“My doctor’s office called this afternoon and left a message on my cell. They moved my cast-removal appointment to late tomorrow, when I’d planned to help set up for the poetry slam.” With her thumb and forefinger, she pinched her temples, looking even more tired than before. “I can reschedule the appointment, obviously. If at all possible, however, I’d prefer to keep it, because the itch beneath this damn contraption”—she glared down at her cast—“may well drive me to madness soon.”
He didn’t hesitate. “By all means, get your cast removed as soon as possible. I’ll make certain the poetry slam preparations happen without a hitch.” Removing his phone from his pocket, he tapped out a note to himself. “Do you want to skip the event entirely and just go home after your appointment?”
“No. I want to see all our hard work pay off.” Her tone discouraged further discussion. “My appointment’s at five. I have no idea how long it takes to remove a cast, but I hope to be back at school by six-thirty at the latest.”
He lifted a shoulder. “However long it takes is fine.”
Despite his reassurances, she frowned up at him. “Are you positive you can coordinate all the prep without my assistance?”
He’d have thought she didn’t trust him, but he knew her too well by now.
The woman hated shirking responsibilities. That wasn’t what she was currently doing, of course, but she would perceive it that way anyway.
“Don’t worry, Candy,” he said. “I’ll take care of everything.”
Her long, slow exhalation left her slumped. “Thank you, Griff. Okay, now I really do need to go.”
He smiled. “You’re more than welcome.”
With a nod, she turned a second time and began to walk away, her stride more a shuffle than her usual stomp. Moment by moment, her figure got smaller in his sight, her footsteps fainter in his hearing.
She was disappearing from him, bit by bit.
