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He takes two steps in my direction, the tension on his face melting. He rests his palm on my cheek. “Please, do this for me. This is what I do. Let me take care of you.”
The skin under my right eye bunches and twitches as I tamp down the emotion. I lean my cheek into his hand to soak up his touch.
His plea is ardent, and his words flay me. I can’t imagine what he goes through with his mother day after day. Or how painful it must be. Adding to his plate would be unfair. He doesn’t need to take this burden on too.
“I don’t want to add to your stress, Cal. I can take care—”
“Stop right there. Listen,please.” He brings his forehead to mine, both hands cupping my cheeks. “I’m not telling you to do this. I’m asking you. No, fuck that. I’m begging you.Please.Trust me to handle this.”
He kisses me, soft and pleading. When he withdraws, tears obscure my view of his face.
I’ve never had anyone want to take care of me. Never wanted it. Never needed it. But Cal seems…desperateto surround me in a cocoon of safety. And I won’t deny him that.
“Okay. I’ll stay with you.”
He exhales, and his breath dances over me before he kisses me again. I can taste his apprehension in every tug of my lips and swipe of his tongue.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
He lets his hands trail down my arms slowly until he locks one around my wrist and tugs me toward the foyer. “Lock it behind me. I’ll be right back.”
After I close and lock the door, I rest against the hard metal, focusing on taking calming breaths.
So much is happening so fast. My life has been thrown into overdrive, and it’s careening out of control.
Leaving the CIA, coming to Redleg, a new town, new house, new friends, new…lover.Everything with Violet and Tomer, pissing off my new boss, and now this? Someone was inside my house last night.
But apparently, I’ll be staying with Cal until we figure out what is happening.
With my bag packed, I have nothing to do but wait.
Except one thing.
Dashing to the kitchen, I pull out the piece of raspberry lemon cake I didn’t eat last night and shovel in the heavenly goodness at a record speed.
Am I hungry? No. I just had breakfast.
Do I have a craving for something sweet? Again, no. The large amount of creamer I poured into my coffee took care of that.
But do I want comforty goodness to ease my frazzled nerves?
Yes. Yes, I fucking do.
And if having an emotional support dessert is wrong, then I don’t want to be right.
The French Revolutioneers really should have eaten the cake when Marie Antoinette offered it. They’d have felt much better. Who can be unhappy while eating cake?
The alert on my phone signals Cal’s approach to my front door, so I meet him there.
“Ready?” He tosses a look over his shoulder to make sure no one has snuck up behind him.
“Yes.” I hoist my bag off the floor and follow him out.
After we lock up, he tucks me close against his side, one big strong arm surrounding me. It’s a little overkill, considering my training, but I won’t ever object to him touching me. As we hoof it down my sidewalk, his head swivels so much I wonder if he’s about to vomit pea soup.
He stalks around the car again, checking under it with his scanner and a mirror.
I jiggle the handle of the locked door. “It’s fine, Cal. We’re good.”
