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Either she was lying when she said she wasn’t tired or she weighed her options and decided going to bed was the better bet. That’s where I find her, and there’s a trace of faint sniffling until I reach the bedroom door. She still has too much pride to let me hear her cry. It only makes me like her more.
I don’t say a word at first. I settle for climbing into bed. Her body goes still, but she does nothing to stop me. It’s obvious from her lack of reaction that she’s waiting for me to start things off.
“I’m sorry.” The words hang in the air, sounding almost foreign. It doesn’t come naturally, being the first to apologize. Can’t say I like it much. “I was needlessly cruel. I don’t want you getting the idea that’s who I am normally.”
“That’s what you care about?” Her voice is thick with the tears she won’t let herself shed.
“I need you to understand something.” This is painful. I’ve witnessed torture that went better than this is going. Every word is like a burning coal getting lodged in my chest. “Do you think it’s a joke that I’m here all the time, working, making this hotel my life? I guess from an outsider’s perspective, it is funny in a way. But it’s also how I’ve lived my life for a long time. This is all new for me. Having you here, knowing I need to keep you safe, but also trying to balance my responsibilities with that. And to answer your question, I don’t know how much longer this will go on. That’s not easy for me, either. The not knowing. I don’t do well with the unknown. When it comes to you, that’s all I have. Unanswered questions.”
“It’s not any easier for me, either.”
“I know. And it was wrong for me to act like it doesn’t matter that you’re as mixed up by all of this as I am.”
“We can agree on that.”
She rolls over to face me. I almost wish she wouldn’t. It’s hard enough talking to her back. I might as well be trying to navigate in the dark. I’m that clueless about how to handle her and what she does to me. “And there’s something else.” Because why not? I’m already making a damn fool of myself by spilling my guts. I might as well go all the way. “What you talked about before? A connection? Of course, I feel it, too.”
Her breath hitches, so I keep going before she can get all excited about my admission. “But it would never work. You’re a smart girl. I know you have to see that.”
“Don’t tell me what I have to see.”
Stubborn, determined little thing. “Then I’ll tell you what I need you to see. Think about everything you’ve seen since you’ve been here. Think about what you know. Now multiply that by, oh, a million. That’s how much you don’t know. We come from two different worlds. It would be a waste of time to even think there could be a future for us. And I’m not going to be cruel by encouraging what I know can only have an unhappy ending. That’s the way it has to be.”
Whether we like it or not. I won’t add that since it might give her unnecessary hope, like she can change my mind if she tries hard enough. Knowing her, it’s exactly what she’d do.
She’s quiet for a long time, wearing a pensive expression. I won’t bother to ask what she’s thinking. She’ll tell me.
And she does. “Can you at least stop avoiding me? It really is so boring and lonely.”
“I can do that. But you have to promise to let me do my work without asking questions or getting in the way. Can you do that?”
“I’m not a child.”
“That’s not an answer. Yes or no?”
“Yes, I won’t get in your way.”
“Thank you. Now, why don’t we both try to get some sleep?” There are still too many unspoken words and unanswered questions between us, but right now, it’s enough for us to settle in together. I roll onto my back, and she creeps over without a word, resting her head on my shoulder. I don’t have the heart to brush her off—and I don’t want to either.
TEAGAN
I’m the first one awake for the first time since I started sharing a bed with Mason. The blackout curtains are drawn shut, only letting a few rays of sun peek through the sides. It’s enough light to let me take a closer look at Mason’s pristine body.
The hotel must have a fully stocked gym because each one of his muscles seems to be well-defined. He somehow kept up with the training regimen of the military. Or maybe he is just carved out of stone.
I take my time inspecting every tattoo I can see. Most of them seem random and meaningless, but a few between look different, more defined. For example, the medallion on his shoulder with an anchor or the lettering on his chest that reads Death Before Dishonor.
