“Is this payback for last night?” I ask. “I didn’t make you come over, you know. I would’ve been fine.”
The question seems to knock a little of the wind out of his sails. His smile drops slightly and his eyebrows shift toward each other.
“You shouldn’t have had so much to drink,” he says finally.
“So you’re going to lecture me now? I don’t want to hear it.”
He sighs. “Do you have any idea how worried I—”
“Oh, no,” I say. “You’re not pulling that over-protective crap on me. I drank too much and got a little sick. It’s not like I’ve never done that before.”
“I’m not being over-protective. I think I’m showing an appropriate amount of concern.”
“For what? Me having a few too many? If I hadn’t texted you last night, what’s the worst that would’ve happened? I’d have woken up this morning with a bad headache and a desperate need for a shower. That’s it. There’s no need to be patronizing.”
“I’m not being patronizing.” His shoulders are rigid, and he won’t look me in the eye. He stands up and moves away from the bed, jerking a hand through his hair.
“When you dropped that call, I—I feared the worst. I don’t know why. I tried calling you, multiple times, and then I decided to drive over here. But I didn’t see your car in the parking lot. I didn’t know where you were, and my calls still weren’t going through. I—I drove by the Center, just in case. And then I started driving from bar to bar, until finally I spotted your car at Bar Zero down the street. I had to talk to a dozen people before I found a waitress who remembered you. She told me you called a cab to pick you up, and so I came back here and actually walked up to your door this time. You know the rest.”
And… now I feel like complete shit. He was worried about me. So worried that he went into a panic trying to find me.
“I didn’t know,” I say, my voice no more than a whisper.
Calder steps closer to the bed. “I’m not trying to manipulate you into an apology. It’s not your fault I jumped to the wrong conclusions. I just—I just had these images of you lying in a ditch somewhere, or kidnapped by that jackass ex of yours.”
“Garrett? He won’t violate the restraining order. His career means too much to him.”
He shakes his head. “That’s exactly the attitude that scares me. You can’t know what he’ll do. Neither of us does. Did you expect him to show up at my estate looking for you? He broke onto my property, for God’s sake.”
“I broke onto your property, too.”
“That’s precisely my point. Garrett’s just a piece of it. You don’t—you don’t ever just stop to think. You’re brash. Impulsive. You act without thinking and then just trust that everything will work itself out. But life doesn’t always work like that. Sometimes there are consequences. And sometimes other people have to deal with those consequences.”
“So, what? You blame me for Garrett’s actions? I suppose it’s my fault that he attacked me in the first place?”
“No! No of course not,” he says. “That’s not what I meant. God, this is coming out all wrong.”
He stands up again, and he looks so distressed that I’d feel sorry for him if I weren’t so pissed.
“I didn’t ask you to come here,” I remind him again. “I didn’t ask you to deal with any ‘consequences’ of my stupid, brash decision.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” He rubs his hand across his face. “I’m not saying this right.”
At this point, I’m not sure I care what he’s trying to say.
“Calder,” I say to his back. “Untie me.”
He turns slowly, as if he doesn’t want to look at me. I can hardly blame him. If he thinks of me as some impulsive kid, why does he even bother?
I stare up at the ceiling as he approaches. I can’t bear to look at his face. He stops next to the bed, and I wait for the pressure on my wrists to release, but it doesn’t. Instead he’s there, suddenly, cupping my face, pulling it to his, kissing me like a madman. He doesn’t give me a chance to breathe, to react, to think. His mouth is desperate, pleading, like he wants to erase these past few minutes with his lips and his tongue.
“I was worried,” he murmurs against my mouth. “I was so worried.”
I’m worried, too. Worried about him. Worried that this thing, whatever it is, is falling apart around us, that he and I are struggling against something we can’t see. the site where Garrett contributes6Npa
“Calder,” I say, my voice breaking.
He kisses me again, deeper this time, as if he might taste my very soul. After a moment he pulls back, just enough so that I can look up into his eyes.
“I believe it’s your turn,” he says softly. “Which will it be? Truth or dare?”
Only a few minutes ago, I would have arched my naked body up against him and teased and tempted and dared him to resist me. But that doesn’t feel right. Not in this moment.
“Truth.”
He stares down at me for a minute, and I can only guess at the thoughts dancing in the shadows of his eyes. His hand sneaks up and caresses my face, his thumb brushing across my lips. He starts to reach for the shirt around my wrists, but I shake my head.
“Leave it.”
He obeys, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Tell me about your week,” he says.
I blink. “Are you insane? How the hell do you think it was?”
The look of shock on his face is only mildly satisfying. His thumb pauses in the groove beneath my lower lip.
“I know I’m at fault,” he says softly.
“You think?” I shake my head. “What, do you get some sort of sick pleasure out of hearing me talk about how upset I was?”
“No. No, not at all,” he says. His eyes burn into me. “I ask because I want to know exactly what I put you through. I want to feel pain for every moment of pain I’ve caused you. But most of all, I want to know how much I need to do to make it up to you.”
“So that’s it, then?” I say. “You think you can apologize and make all of it go away?”
He shakes his head. takes me a moment to returnpa“I’m not trying to make it go away. I know I hurt you, and I won’t brush it off like it never happened.”