He readjusted his hold to free one hand. Then he smoothed it down the side of my face, tucking my hair behind my ear. I heard him say, his voice coming through his chest to me, “She needs rest. I’m thinking this breakdown was bound to happen.”
Then, with a soft murmur for my ears only, he whispered, “I won’t leave you.” He turned and left. He headed to my room and laid me down on the bed. When he straightened and started to leave, I acted on impulse. I wasn’t thinking.
I reached for his hand.
He stopped, looked down. “Sheldon,” he started, the struggle obvious on his face.
I tugged on his hand again. “I don’t care.” I should’ve. But I didn’t. “Stay with me. I don’t want to be alone.”
I didn’t want to be alone with Grace. As he gave in and crawled to lay behind me, I held onto him as he rested an arm over me. Corrigan was my shelter. He always had been. A part of me knew this was wrong. I shouldn’t be using him this way, but I needed someone with me. I had to.
“Grace,” I whispered, closing my eyes, and settling farther down in the bed.
“Mmm?” Corrigan lifted his head.
“Nothing.” I cleared my throat. “Nothing.”
But I felt her.
I had a feeling she wasn’t going anywhere.
CHAPTER TWELVE
When I awoke, Corrigan wasn’t beside me. I frowned. The bed felt vacant, but I had slept with him for so many nights before, when I only wanted to be held and comforted.
Knock, knock.
I lifted my head at the door. That’s what had awoken me.
Knock, knock.
It came again. Sitting up in bed, I gazed around, saw the darkness outside the window and wondered how long I had been sleeping.
“Sheldon?”
It was Bryce. Hurrying to the door, I opened it, but looked around behind me. Was Corrigan in the bathroom? Should it matter? But it did. Bryce had lifted his hand for another knock. He lowered it, his eyes penetrating mine as he asked, so soft and so damn tenderly, “You okay?”
Normally I would lie. “No.” I didn’t this time.
He nodded, his face clouded with concern and wariness. He cleared his throat. “Is Corrigan with you?”
My eyes flung back to him. He knew. I swallowed back a small amount of guilt, raking my fingers through my hair. “He was. I—” How did I put this? How could I explain it? “I needed someone and—”
Bryce nodded, finishing for me, “I know.”
I hadn’t asked for him. That unspoken message seemed to hang between us, and I felt how heavy the atmosphere turned. Shit. I caught the hurt in his eyes. I reached out, again not thinking, and touched his arm. He didn’t move back, but he didn’t take my hand in his. I hadn’t wanted him to. I just wanted to reassure him. So I said, “Corrigan’s been there for me. You know this. After Marcus—” I stumbled on my words. My cheeks flushed. What was wrong with me?
“Sheldon,” Bryce squeezed my hand, lifting it from his arm, but he let it go. It fell back to my side. “I understand. I really do.”
Did he? He didn’t think he was needed. I read that thought and surged across the space between us, or I started to. I stopped. Fear slammed me back.
I was scared of reaching out to Bryce. I was scared of comforting him, of telling him . . . what? I had no idea. I finally just admitted, “I want to come to you. I do, but my feelings are locked inside me. Corrigan’s always been there for me. I’m not saying you haven’t, except about Guadalupe, but that’s partly me. I pushed you away. I left you for him. Screwing another girl, I can’t really get mad at you for that, but . . .”
“Sheldon,” he started again, pointing down the hallway.
“I’m sorry.” I needed to feel vulnerable. I needed to peel open my doors and let whatever happened happen, but that’s what I was fighting against. Not Bryce. Just whatever would happen when I did that.
I didn’t want to feel vulnerable. That’s all I was now.
“Hey.” He stepped closer. His tone turned soothing and he cupped the side of my face. His thumb rested on my cheek, and a tender smile looked back down at me.
God. My chest filled. The tenderness there was loving. My pulse started to pick up, and I was struggling to stand still. I felt my knees starting to knock against each other. His hand was holding me in place. My entire body snapped to attention at that small touch from him. Without thinking or realizing, I lifted a hand to rest over his own, but his words were a slap to me.
“The police are here.”
“Oh.” My hand thumped back to my side, and I retreated back to my room, moving from his shelter. I looked, as if they would be coming up the hallway, coming to arrest me once again. “Where?”
“At the front door. The hotel thing. They’re pissed.”
“Why? I didn’t violate anything.”
He lifted a shoulder, frowning darkly. “Who knows, but they’re here, and they’re pissed. I guess your dad was supposed to have informed them when we left his house and came here, but he didn’t.”
Police were a pain in my ass on a normal day. Pissed police were going to be a fucking hangover that could never be nursed away.
I groaned, my faculties quickly coming back to me. I needed to fight. Get it together, Sheldon. I needed to be clear, calm, and rational when I went down there. They were the enemy now. I’d have to fight. I always had to fight.
“Okay. I’m ready.”
“You sure?”
I nodded. “Let’s go.” I gritted my teeth. Bryce started forward, and I followed, shutting my door. As we went downstairs and back to the front entrance, déjà vu came over me. I’d just been there. The same group had been there, with the same concerned and angry expressions. Skimming a quick eye over them, there was no Mena this time. The two detectives who had interrogated me had hostile looks on their faces.
Okay.
I stopped and turned toward them. “Defectives.” It was game on.
The woman rolled her eyes, then rested her hands on her hips. The ends of her suit jacket were pushed back from the motion, her badge and gun were clipped to her hip. She wore a buttoned-down shirt, tucked inside her jeans that showed off her trim figure. She didn’t look the hostile mess she’d been at the police station. Her hair had been in a messy bun, the ends loose, but this time her hair was swept into a pristine-looking bun, clipped at the base of her skull. She looked the epitome of a professional, then I caught the sideways glance at Denton, and her lips pressed together for a split second.
Then, with a soft murmur for my ears only, he whispered, “I won’t leave you.” He turned and left. He headed to my room and laid me down on the bed. When he straightened and started to leave, I acted on impulse. I wasn’t thinking.
I reached for his hand.
He stopped, looked down. “Sheldon,” he started, the struggle obvious on his face.
I tugged on his hand again. “I don’t care.” I should’ve. But I didn’t. “Stay with me. I don’t want to be alone.”
I didn’t want to be alone with Grace. As he gave in and crawled to lay behind me, I held onto him as he rested an arm over me. Corrigan was my shelter. He always had been. A part of me knew this was wrong. I shouldn’t be using him this way, but I needed someone with me. I had to.
“Grace,” I whispered, closing my eyes, and settling farther down in the bed.
“Mmm?” Corrigan lifted his head.
“Nothing.” I cleared my throat. “Nothing.”
But I felt her.
I had a feeling she wasn’t going anywhere.
CHAPTER TWELVE
When I awoke, Corrigan wasn’t beside me. I frowned. The bed felt vacant, but I had slept with him for so many nights before, when I only wanted to be held and comforted.
Knock, knock.
I lifted my head at the door. That’s what had awoken me.
Knock, knock.
It came again. Sitting up in bed, I gazed around, saw the darkness outside the window and wondered how long I had been sleeping.
“Sheldon?”
It was Bryce. Hurrying to the door, I opened it, but looked around behind me. Was Corrigan in the bathroom? Should it matter? But it did. Bryce had lifted his hand for another knock. He lowered it, his eyes penetrating mine as he asked, so soft and so damn tenderly, “You okay?”
Normally I would lie. “No.” I didn’t this time.
He nodded, his face clouded with concern and wariness. He cleared his throat. “Is Corrigan with you?”
My eyes flung back to him. He knew. I swallowed back a small amount of guilt, raking my fingers through my hair. “He was. I—” How did I put this? How could I explain it? “I needed someone and—”
Bryce nodded, finishing for me, “I know.”
I hadn’t asked for him. That unspoken message seemed to hang between us, and I felt how heavy the atmosphere turned. Shit. I caught the hurt in his eyes. I reached out, again not thinking, and touched his arm. He didn’t move back, but he didn’t take my hand in his. I hadn’t wanted him to. I just wanted to reassure him. So I said, “Corrigan’s been there for me. You know this. After Marcus—” I stumbled on my words. My cheeks flushed. What was wrong with me?
“Sheldon,” Bryce squeezed my hand, lifting it from his arm, but he let it go. It fell back to my side. “I understand. I really do.”
Did he? He didn’t think he was needed. I read that thought and surged across the space between us, or I started to. I stopped. Fear slammed me back.
I was scared of reaching out to Bryce. I was scared of comforting him, of telling him . . . what? I had no idea. I finally just admitted, “I want to come to you. I do, but my feelings are locked inside me. Corrigan’s always been there for me. I’m not saying you haven’t, except about Guadalupe, but that’s partly me. I pushed you away. I left you for him. Screwing another girl, I can’t really get mad at you for that, but . . .”
“Sheldon,” he started again, pointing down the hallway.
“I’m sorry.” I needed to feel vulnerable. I needed to peel open my doors and let whatever happened happen, but that’s what I was fighting against. Not Bryce. Just whatever would happen when I did that.
I didn’t want to feel vulnerable. That’s all I was now.
“Hey.” He stepped closer. His tone turned soothing and he cupped the side of my face. His thumb rested on my cheek, and a tender smile looked back down at me.
God. My chest filled. The tenderness there was loving. My pulse started to pick up, and I was struggling to stand still. I felt my knees starting to knock against each other. His hand was holding me in place. My entire body snapped to attention at that small touch from him. Without thinking or realizing, I lifted a hand to rest over his own, but his words were a slap to me.
“The police are here.”
“Oh.” My hand thumped back to my side, and I retreated back to my room, moving from his shelter. I looked, as if they would be coming up the hallway, coming to arrest me once again. “Where?”
“At the front door. The hotel thing. They’re pissed.”
“Why? I didn’t violate anything.”
He lifted a shoulder, frowning darkly. “Who knows, but they’re here, and they’re pissed. I guess your dad was supposed to have informed them when we left his house and came here, but he didn’t.”
Police were a pain in my ass on a normal day. Pissed police were going to be a fucking hangover that could never be nursed away.
I groaned, my faculties quickly coming back to me. I needed to fight. Get it together, Sheldon. I needed to be clear, calm, and rational when I went down there. They were the enemy now. I’d have to fight. I always had to fight.
“Okay. I’m ready.”
“You sure?”
I nodded. “Let’s go.” I gritted my teeth. Bryce started forward, and I followed, shutting my door. As we went downstairs and back to the front entrance, déjà vu came over me. I’d just been there. The same group had been there, with the same concerned and angry expressions. Skimming a quick eye over them, there was no Mena this time. The two detectives who had interrogated me had hostile looks on their faces.
Okay.
I stopped and turned toward them. “Defectives.” It was game on.
The woman rolled her eyes, then rested her hands on her hips. The ends of her suit jacket were pushed back from the motion, her badge and gun were clipped to her hip. She wore a buttoned-down shirt, tucked inside her jeans that showed off her trim figure. She didn’t look the hostile mess she’d been at the police station. Her hair had been in a messy bun, the ends loose, but this time her hair was swept into a pristine-looking bun, clipped at the base of her skull. She looked the epitome of a professional, then I caught the sideways glance at Denton, and her lips pressed together for a split second.
