Page 43 of Nothing At All

I froze, bracing my forearms on his pecs to lever back a half-step. I lifted my gaze to his, finding his eyes dark with emotion under puffy lids. “What?”

The broken whisper hurt my throat.

“I love you.” His throat bobbed with a swallow. I stared at him. His hands flexed at my waist.

Unable to breathe, to swallow, I blinked.

In the circle of my numb arms, he stiffened. “You’re not there yet.”

“I . . .” I moistened my lips. What could I say? Nothing was going to make this better.

His expression shifted, his mouth tightening. His eyes shuttered, the light there dimming. Silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable. Last night, he’d taken a physical hit and been hurt.

This morning, just now, I’d hit him emotionally.

He was still standing, still holding me in a loose embrace, although he’d eased away to put distance between us.

He wasn’t walking away.

And I didn’t know what to do with that either.

I was a mess.

A flaky, flighty, not-as-together-as-I-thought-I-was mess.

He said he loved me, and I couldn’t say it back.

My eyes prickled, but I refused to cry. He was physically not okay. I’d just hurt his heart, and I would not let my tears hijack that.

“So we probably need to have a conversation we should have already had.” His pained rasp scraped over my raw nerves. “But I feel like shit and can’t think straight.”

Relief spurted through me, and I hated myself for it. Even so, I sagged in his easy hold. I wanted to smooth the blood-stained t-shirt on his chest, but somehow, I didn’t feel like I had the full right to do that any longer.

“You should rest today.” I touched the edge of his leather belt. “I can make you some breakfast and pick us up lunch later if–”

“I wouldn’t mind a little space today.” His voice quietened, and he seemed as present as always, although that tiny distance remained between our bodies.

“Oh.” I blinked again, uncertainty making my fingers shaky. “Okay.”

I dropped my hands and stepped back. I cast about for something to ground myself – the hum of the refrigerator, the angle of light coming through the window, the hardwood under my feet – because he suddenly wasn’t there the same way he’d been.

“I’ll just . . .” Tears pushed at the backs of my eyes, and I bit my lip. I wasn’t going to cry. That wasn’t fair to him. “I’ll get my shoes and order a rideshare.”

“Hey.” He cupped my chin, a gentle nudge turning my gaze to his. “It’s just a little space so I can think and process. That’s all.”

I nodded, an ache spreading from the back of my throat all the way down my chest to my stomach. The overwhelming urge to bawl reminded me of breaking one of my grandmother’s handpainted plates.

Like I’d broken something that couldn’t be brought back.

Chapter Thirteen

Dan

My head and face pounded like a son of a bitch, although the pain was a distraction from the heavy ache dead center of my chest. I was pretty sure the pain there had nothing to do with Jim Ed Reese tackling me.

Being knocked on my ass had hurt my pride.

The way my lungs and heart squeezed once Lila was out the door hit different.