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Addy and Clara shared a look that Delaney had come to think of as their Top Secret Glance. Whatever they knew about where James was, they wouldn’t share it with Delaney. It was a look that didn’t use to bother her.
She had her own secrets. What did she need to know about his? Except the more time they spent together, the more he touched her, the more she saw who he really was as a person, the more she wanted to know everything about him. The more she wanted him to know everything about her.
But she couldn’t risk that. It seemed almost laughable for the thought to enter her mind at all when she couldn’t even bring herself to fall asleep next to him. She wanted to. Every morning when she woke up cold and alone in her bed across the hall, she told herself James wouldn’t hurt her no matter how vulnerable he found her.
But repeating that like a mantra in her head in the light of day did nothing to stop the anxiety that crept up her spine when it was dark and just the two of them in his big bed. It couldn’t stop the way the panic tightened her throat at the memory of big hands wrapped around it.
She’d tried to sleep next to him two nights ago. It felt perfect to have his arm wrapped around her waist, her head pillowed on his bicep, his breath deep and steady against her bare shoulder. But despite her heavy eyelids and her body begging for sleep, she hadn’t been able to let go, hadn’t been able to stop thinking about all the times her vulnerability and trust had been used to hurt her.
In her heart of hearts, she knew James would never do that to her. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she trusted every part of him, even the secret ones, but she couldn’t make her brain catch up. She couldn’t convince it he wasn’t a threat in the dark.
“One double cheeseburger, no onions.” Addy’s voice jolted Delaney out of her thoughts as she slid the burger into a cardboard container and added fresh fries, passing the box through the window to Clara. “You sure you don’t want anything before I clean up?”
“Yeah.” Delaney waved away Addy’s offer. “I have some leftovers upstairs, but honestly I’m so exhausted I might just crash.”
“You should go up.” Clara gave Delaney’s shoulder a gentle nudge. “We’ll finish up here.”
“Are you sure?”
Clara gave a curt nod. “You worked a double, and it was a madhouse today. I’m sure. I’ll just sit here and eat this burger while I watch Addy clean.”
“Thank you,” Addy replied sarcastically. “That’s very noble of you.”
Clara took a big bite of her burger. “What can I say? I’m a good friend. Go,” Clara said to Delaney, pointing to the door.
“Okay. I’m going.” Delaney wrapped an arm around Clara’s shoulders and squeezed. “Thank you. I’ll see you both on Wednesday.”
“Not me,” Clara said. The new girl is officially flying solo, and I get a three-day weekend. You’ll have to let me know how she does.”
“I will,” Delaney promised. “Night.”
They started poking at each other before Delaney even made it all the way across the kitchen, and she shook her head as she climbed the stairs. Locking the door behind her, she looked first at the fridge and then toward the loft. She should eat something. If she didn’t, she’d wake up nauseous and irritated with herself. Not the best way to start a morning.
Crossing to the fridge, she pulled out the leftover stir-fry she’d made the day before and put it in the microwave to warm. Her stomach growled when she opened the door, and she briefly eyed the table before carrying her food into the living room and sinking down onto the couch. She’d seen James eat on the couch several times, so she didn’t think he’d mind, and it was so impossibly soft.
Turning the TV on for noise, she tucked into the stir-fry. It was better fresh and still needed some sesame oil to finish, but she was too hungry to be that picky about it. She flipped through the channels until finally settling on a sitcom she used to watch with her mom a million years ago and let the episodes she’d long since memorized soothe her while she ate.
* * *
Eyes still closed, Delaney tried to place the noise echoing through her room. It didn’t sound like the usual traffic that drifted up from the street or the muffled noises James often made in the kitchen when he got up before she did. Gripping the blanket around her, she buried her face into the pillow and froze.
It wasn’t the cool satin she was used to sleeping on to protect her hair. It was cotton and felt eerily similar to the pillows on the couch. Had she dragged one upstairs with her last night? The blanket felt thinner than usual, softer too.
She tried to remember the events of the night before, but the last thing she remembered was eating dinner in front of the TV. She heard the noise again, a faint rustling sound, and opened her eyes.
She wasn’t upstairs, locked safely behind her bedroom door. She was on the couch, curled into a ball under the blanket that normally lay draped over the armchair in the corner.
The TV was off, the black screen reflecting the light from the sun that shone through the windows, and the dish she’d expected to find on the coffee table from her dinner last night wasn’t there. The rustling returned, followed by the sound of the top clicking closed on the lid of the trash can, the clink of a bottle. No doubt James pulling one of his iced coffees out of the fridge.
She pushed slowly up to a sitting position, running her fingers through her hair before securing it in a thick ponytail on top of her head. She’d deal with that later. Once her heart stopped hammering against her rib cage. A reward for avoiding a panic attack over falling asleep on the couch and leaving herself exposed all fucking night.
Not ready to turn around, she folded the blanket with trembling fingers and draped it over the back of the couch. When she did finally pivot toward the kitchen, James was standing at the island smiling at her, his eyes traveling over her face like he was taking her in.
“Hey, you. Good morning.” He pointed to a box in the center of the island. “I brought breakfast.”
“Are you just getting in?”
“No.” He shook his head and took a swig of his iced coffee. “I got in very late last night—more like very early this morning—and you were asleep on the couch. I didn’t have the heart to wake you, so I covered you up with the blanket and let you sleep.”
