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He’d just dismounted and was taking his helmet off. Siena had run several steps toward him before she realized what she was doing and drew up short.
Before she could decide if she should call out to him, or what she would say if she did, or why she’d run out here in the first place, he looked at her. For a moment, they both stood in place, staring at each other. His face was blank, inscrutable despite the glow from the streetlight; Siena couldn’t say if any of her turmoil was apparent on hers.
What should she say? Should she say anything? Was this a horrible mistake, was she begging for more humiliation? Why would he want her when he could have someone who was whole? Someone who had all her parts and wasn’t living with an early, horrible death hovering over her head like the blade of a guillotine? Someone who had a future? Someone who had a present that was more than a scramble for every tiny crumb?
Then he gave her a curt nod, just a single, tense bob of his head, and turned away. He headed toward his door without a word.
He was angry.
The only thing he could be angry at her about was this afternoon—yesterday afternoon now. Why was he angry?
Because she’d hurt him. By leaving the way she had.
That only made sense one way she could imagine: he cared. He hadn’t been acting.
He’d really wanted her.
He was at his door, sliding the key into the lock.
“Cooper!” she called and crossed onto his driveway.
At the sound of his name, he went still. He didn’t turn to her, didn’t even take his hand off the doorknob. He simply froze.
She took two more steps, to the edge of his driveway, and then her courage failed, and she stopped. Again, the scene went still.
Finally, he turned.
“What do you need, Siena?”
His voice was as expressionless as his face. This was a man who grinned easily, whose expressions took over every inch of his face, whose even serious expressions were dynamic. Now, there was nothing. It was like he’d turned himself off. Locked himself down.
When she did that, she was in bunker mode: all self-protection, just trying to gut out the pain of whatever she was going through.
The words he’d actually spoken, the question he’d asked, slapped at her.What do you need?How many times had she been in need, and he’d been there? He’d moved in only weeks ago, and already, he’d pulled an angry man off her, fixed her car,washedher car, gave her self-defense tips. He’d even tucked her in for a nap. He’d even helped Geneva out, and offered more.
How had she paid all that back? By squirming out from under him and leaving him naked on the floor as she ran away.
She really was a nightmare of a human being. She should repay him for his help and kindness by leaving him the fuck alone.
He sighed. “Yeah. Okay.” And turned back to his door. It swung open, and he put a foot on the threshold.
If he went in and closed the door, Siena knew the chance, if it existed, would be lost forever.
“I’m sorry!” she cried.
He stopped. Again, he didn’t move. Again, she waited. He stepped back down from the threshold and turned toward her, but said nothing.
Siena took few steps toward him, but stopped when he took a step back. Like he was afraid she’d hurt him again.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated.
“For what?”
She quailed a bit at that; there were a couple ways to interpret that two-word question: that he didn’t know what she had to be sorry for, because he hadn’t cared after all, or that he cared a lot, he was really hurt, and he wasn’t going to make any part of her apology easy for her.
Siena decided to be brave. She took a few more steps toward him. He watched her warily but didn’t back up again.
“I’m sorry for leaving like I did. I was freaking out, but that doesn’t matter. If you’d left me like that, I’d be pissed and hurt. I didn’t mean to be shitty.”
