Page 111 of One Reckless Night

“Maybe,” I said softly. “But I don’t want better. I want you.”

He didn’t respond. Every second that passed felt like an eternity. I could see the walls going back up, the vulnerability slipping away. He turned and left the room without another word.

I wanted to tell him I loved him. I wanted to say the words out loud, to make him understand how much he meant to me. But I couldn’t. Not yet. Not when I was just starting to realize how broken the man in front of me was. Jared had spent his entire life proving himself, pushing himself to be the best, the smartest, the most talented. And now, faced with the possibility of failure—of not being enough—he was terrified.

I didn’t know how to fix that. I didn’t know if I even could. It wasn’t my place to fix him. He had to want to be different. I believed he was trying, but he wasn’t really pushing himself. If he didn’t want to, I had to accept things would never be the way I wanted.

I stared at the TV screen, the glow of some mindless reality show casting shadows across the room. The fruit Jared had left—sliced mango and pineapple—sat untouched on the plate beside me. I wasn’t hungry, just bored. I missed my work. I missed doing things. The next month was going to drive me crazy. I’d already cycled through three channels, each more insufferable than the last.

The door creaked open, and Clair poked her head in. “Knock, knock,” she said with a grin, holding up a paper bag. “I come bearing snacks.”

“Thank God,” I muttered, tossing the remote onto the bed. “If I have to watch one more episode of people yelling at each other over cake designs, I might lose my mind.”

Clair laughed, crossing the room and plopping down on the edge of the bed. She dug into the bag and pulled out a box of chocolate cookies. “Here. These’ll cure your boredom better than any TV show.”

I took one gratefully, biting into it with a sigh. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“So, how’s being bedrest treating you?”

“It feels like house arrest,” I corrected. “I feel like a prisoner.”

“Jared is making sure you’re healing,” she said.

I rolled my eyes. “Is that what he’s doing?”

Clair smirked, leaning back against the headboard. “Well, he’s not wrong. You do need to take it easy. But I get it—you’re not exactly the ‘sit still and do nothing’ type, are you?”

“Not remotely,” I grumbled, reaching for another cookie. “I feel like I’m going stir crazy already. And Jared’s hovering is a lot. He’s acting like I’m made of glass.”

Clair raised an eyebrow, her tone teasing. “Oh, come on. You’ve got the guy wrapped around your finger. He’s clearly worried sick about you. And let’s be honest, Jared doesn’t exactly have a reputation for being Mr. Sensitive. This is progress.”

I sighed, picking at the edge of the blanket. “I know he’s trying. But it’s complicated. He’s so used to being in control, to fixing things. And this? Me? This isn’t something he can just fix with a scalpel or a brilliant research paper. I’m a human with feelings.”

Clair tilted her head, studying me with a soft smile. “He cares about you, Amelia. More than he probably knows how to articulate. Give him time. And give yourself time too. I saw him at the lab. That man is crazy about you.”

“Maybe.” I sighed. “Or maybe he’s just crazy.”