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“I thought I did, but …” He paused and took a deep breath before meeting my eyes. “But I guess I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“Ugh, it’s worse when you’re nice and reasonable,” I huffed and crossed my arms. “You can’t be touchy with me. No hand holding, no … snuggles, nothing. No touching. Understand?”

For the briefest of seconds, his eyes darkened and dropped to my lips. And I knew what he was thinking. He was thinking of being a good boy for me, watching me touch myself, while not being allowed to touch me or himself.

And god what a good punishment that would be for making me feel things I was deathly afraid to feel.

But he quickly brought himself out of it with a shake of his head. “Understood. I won’t touch you anymore. Anything else?”

His hands balled into fists by his side, tanned skin paling.

“The acting like my husband thing … I can’t do that.”

His brow furrowed again. “When was I acting like your husband?”

“Not correcting them when they literally called you my husband.” I held out my hand and started counting on my fingers. But before I could get to thing two, Niall spoke up.

“I didn’t want to make things awkward by correcting them. Or have them be judgmental toward you. But if you’d rather I correct them next time, I will.”

I choked back a response and went on with my list like he didn’t just make a fairly reasonable argument.

“And the clipboard and all the questions, it’s too much.”

“Too much how?” His voice went deeper, a rough edge to it that said that his cool and under control demeanor was cracking.

“Too …” I fumbled. “Too much. Too thorough. Too caring. I don’t know.”

“You’re carrying my child, we’re going to co-parent. I know you don’t want to date, but we’re still going to have a relationship in this situation, I have to care about you. I do care about you. I want this baby and you to have the best life possible. And the only way I know how to do that is by getting as much information as possible and work at it. I want to—”

“Niall, stop,” I said, on the verge of tears. He really just didn’t get it, which meant I had to spell it out and that sucked. It sucked to show this guy I barely knew just how broken I was, it sucked to push him away when he was being a genuinely nice guy. It just fucking sucked.

“You’re the exact kind of guy I’d fall for. I mean, you’re hot and rich and you’re so fucking kind and thoughtful. It’d be so fucking easy to fall in love with you. And that’s not even accounting for the pregnancy hormones. But like I told you, love scares the shit out of me. And not like a, 'oh I’m afraid of getting hurt or I’d lose focus on everything else going on in my life' way. But in the way that it would consume me with anxiety and trigger a hearty dose of PTSD. I can’t—I don’t not ‘do’ relationships because it’s hard, I don’t do them because I can’t handle what it triggers.”

Niall’s fist loosened, fingers twitching at his side like he was fighting the urge to reach out. It was stupid how bad that little movement made me feel.

“I know you’re trying to do what you think is right. Fuck, you are doing the right thing. I’m just … the wrong person to do it with.”

“Leah, no,” he said softly, stepping closer but not touching. “Maybe we’re not the right pair or it’s not the right time, but … fuck, I don’t know. But I really hate the idea of you thinking you’re a wrong person to love. Romantically or platonically.”

“Well, in my experience love leads to depression, so …” I tried to say it like a joke, but my laugh was weak as tears started pouring down my cheeks. “See, feelings lead to this shit. Or maybe it’s the hormones. I don’t know.”

“Leah,” he said my name like it pained him. Like he was seeing how broken I was and pricking himself on the pieces.

“So, yeah.” I wiped away my tears with the backs of my hands. “That kind of reaction is why I avoid feelings all together. So, you know, stop being cute and shit, all right?”

Niall let out a little huff, the sound barely reminiscent of a laugh. “I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you. And … I’m sorry for being so difficult in an already difficult situation,” I said and Niall immediately shook his head.

“Don’t apologize. You said you had triggers, I’ll just have to learn about those too.”

I twisted up my nose, this time laughing more genuinely. “Learning my triggers? Kinda sounds like you care about me. And that’s a trigger, so …” I dragged out the word and Niall raised an eye brow.

“Well … I’m assuming lunch is off, but are you okay to drive home or would you like a ride?”

“I’m okay.” I shrugged. He hummed and picked his things back up before walking me to my car. He didn’t move to open the door for me, but he did gently set most of the things he carried in my passenger seat.

“I … already took pictures of these notes, so feel free to toss them or keep ’em for your records.” He tapped the clipboard at the bottom of the pile. “Um … let me know when you got home, all right?”