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What a joke. He didn’t need time off. Days of doing nothing meant he had too much time to think.
And spending time in his head wasn’t restful or fun.
Moving out to the living room, he poured himself a drink and looked around his apartment.
How had he never noticed before how sparse and empty it was?
A bit like your life.
Bloody hell.
Sitting on the leather sofa, he stared out at the view of the city below him and he took a sip of his Scotch.
Fatigue flooded him. A fatigue that wasn’t due to the twelve-hour shift he’d just worked. It wasn’t because he hadn’t had a holiday in over a year.
Nope, this was life fatigue.
He closed his eyes for a long moment as he felt the darkness pressing in. A heaviness on his chest that made it hard to breathe. A persistent gray filter over everywhere he looked. It invaded his limbs, making it hard for him to move them.
And now it was affecting his moods. Making it hard for him to show empathy, caring, and even compassion.
All things he needed in his job.
Just as well he was such a good fucking actor. Years of his parents making him smile in public when behind closed doors everything was complete and utter bullshit.
Yeah. He was pretty sure that no one had any idea.
A set of worried hazel eyes invaded his memory.
“Are you all right?”
When was the last time someone had asked him that? Had cared how he was doing?
Who looks after you while you’re taking care of everyone else?
He hadn’t had anyone show him such empathy or understanding in a long time.
And what had he done? Upset her. She clearly wasn’t ready to speak about her uncle’s care. He could have given her more time. He could have taken her somewhere more pleasant than the hospital cafeteria to talk about it.
You hurt her.
And he fuckinghatedhimself for it.
Swinging his arm up, he threw the glass, watching it smash against the tile floor.
It didn’t ease his self-hatred, though.
He rubbed at his chest. He’d felt things around her. Attraction, interest, worry, concern.
Happiness.
Did he really want this? Want her?
Yeah. He did.
The question was . . . what was he going to do about it? Was he going to take things further?
She belongs to Ian and Jack.
