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Amy’s body comes crashing into mine, almost knocking me off my feet. She wraps her arms around my neck. “Please, Claire. If anything happens to you—”
“Nothing is going to happen to me.”
“Sure, because you’re going to stay with Jake for a while, right?”
Hanging my head, I close my eyes, desperate for this day to be over.
I can’t deal with the worry in her eyes.
She’s squeezing Jake’s shoulder when I look up, whispering to him. He nods in response to whatever she says.
“Call me right away. I’ll be back tomorrow evening. I love you, sis.”
My backup is slowly dwindling. Not that she was much use to me. She’s leaving us to argue this out, knowing I have no other choice.
When Sam and Amy leave my office and close the door, I think they may have taken all the air with them. The oxygen is heavy and my chest heaves, anticipation coursing through my veins. I back up, desperate to say something before he makes good on his threat. Mycould-bestalker is not what I’m afraid of tonight, but the man with dark-honey eyes and shoulders plenty big to throw me over.
As much as I’d suddenly like to experience it again, I think it’s best to try to calm this situation with reasonable conversation.
“I appreciate the thought and you wanting to open your home to me, but I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“Claire, I’m serious. Iwillcarry you out of here.”
“I snore,” I argue, raising my brows and crossing my arms over my chest.
I don’t think I snore, but he doesn’t need to know.
“My walls are soundproof.”
Of course, they are.
This ruins the argument about playing my music too loud.
“I’m a terrible cook.”
I’m amazing, but again, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
He tilts his head and for the first time tonight, I see a genuine smile split his lips. I don’t know if it’s because he knows he’s winning or because of my pathetic excuses.
“I’m not asking you to stay with me so you can feed me and my son.”
“I’m messy and annoying and—”
“Jesus Christ, Claire, I don’t care about any of that. I don’t care what you are once you’re safe.”
When he leans forward against my desk with his palms flat against the wood, his head falls between his shoulders, and my frustration melts away. Instead, I want to reach out and ease the tension across his chest. My heart swells and twists until I’m counting with each heavy breath.
“Please,” he murmurs in a desperate whisper. “I need you to be safe, sweetheart.” His voice is so low that I’m unsure if he meant for me to hear it.
But I do, and a single, heavy tear falls from the corner of my eye because when he looks up again, every feature on his face is awash with pain.
He doesn’t need to say another word. It’s written all over him.
My brain loses the battle with my heart. I’m at his side, gently squeezing his shoulder, hoping it soothes him.
No more fighting.
No more silly bickering.
