I’m done with this shit.That’s the thought filling my brain when I wake again. I went to sleep thinking about Dalton and that kiss, and I wake thinking about the exact same thing, but in a very different way.
He kissed me. It was 100 percent him, even as he was saying he didn’t want it, and when I did the right thing and put a halt to it, how did he react? Stalked off in a snit after repeatedly lecturing me about being alone in the forest. He left me alone in the forest.
I’m pissed, and I’m going to let myself be pissed.
So when I wake and notice someone in the chair, I almost close my eyes again. Then I see it’s Anders.
I rise and look around.
“Do you want me to get Eric?” he says.
“No,” I say, perhaps a bit too vehemently. His brows shoot up, and I hurry on with, “It’s fine. He needs a break.”
“Sure as hell didn’t want it, though. The only reason he left was to tell the council they can go fuck themselves.”
My brows lift.
Anders moves to sit on the bed. “They want him to take Diana tomorrow.”
“I heard him arguing with someone downstairs. Was that the same thing?”
“Nah, that was Beth. She can…” He made a face. “You know what she’s like with Eric. Trying to take care of him, mothering or whatever. She’d been pestering him to leave you alone and go rest, and he was already cranky about that. Then she tried telling him he shouldn’t fight the council. That set him off. I feel a little sorry for her, but…” He shrugs. “She means well, but he really doesn’t like her hovering and fretting over him, and she never takes the hint.”
“Hmm.” I shift in the bed, and I must wince, because Anders reaches for a bottle at my bedside.
“If that’s morphine, the answer is no,” I say. “I have work to do.”
“Which you can’t do if you’re sweating with pain.”
I wipe my forehead. It is indeed beaded with perspiration.
“Take a half dose,” he says. “Then water and food.”
“Speaking of hovering—”
“No, I’m advising. If you tell me to go to hell, I’ll shut up.”
“Okay, give me a half dose. What time is it?”
“Seven.”
I look at the window and see twilight, which doesn’t help. Before I can ask, Anders says, “It’s morning.”
“I’ll take the drugs and any food you can scrounge up. Then I’ve got a list of people I want to interview.”
“Um, you’re not going to be leaving that bed for a few days, Casey.”
“You can bring them to me.”
He smiles, says, “Yes, ma’am,” and pours my medicine.
* * *
I conduct two interviews before Dalton finds out. I hear his footsteps on the stairs, and I tense, waiting for the What the hell are you doing? Then he walks in, and I can tell by his expression the lecture is not forthcoming; I almost wish it was. He has that kicked-dog look from after Jacob’s attack, when he’d been stumbling over himself to apologize.
He slips into the room and looks around, making sure we’re alone before saying, “I, uh, hear you’re conducting interviews from bed. Which is fine if you’re up to it, but before your next one, we should talk.”
“I’m busy, Eric, and I’d like you to go.”
He rubs his chin. “That’s a fuck off, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s a please go away because I don’t really want you here.”
“Okay.” He sits down.
“That’s not—” I begin.
“You’re angry, and you have every right to be. I will leave. Right after I tell you how sorry I am for what happened.”
“You already did. Many times.”
“I don’t mean the stabbing. Of course, I’m sorry about that. I couldn’t be more sorry. I mean what happened before that, which I didn’t apologize for yesterday, because after Jacob, all I could think about was what he did. But what I did was inexcusable.”
He waits a moment and then looks up at me.
“If you’re expecting an argument, you’re not going to get it,” I say.
Dalton nods. “Yeah, okay. Understood. I just want to say that’s not me, that I hope you know I’m not like that, and I don’t know what the hell came over me.”
“Yes, I know it wasn’t how you normally behave, but you still did it. You said to hell with what’s right, to hell with me, and did whatever you pleased.”
His gaze is on the bedspread now as he shakes his head. “Yeah, no excuse. So…” He lifts his head and runs a hand through his hair. “How do we get past this, Casey? Maybe that’s a stupid question. Maybe I should know the answer and not be asking you, but I don’t, so I am, because all I can think to say is that I’m so fucking sorry, and if I could undo it, I would. It will never happen again.”
“You’re right it won’t happen again. Because I’m never going in the forest alone with you ever again. Not after that.”
He nods, gaze lowered. “I know. But it won’t happen here, either. I won’t…” He clears his throat. “Whatever’s going on with us … I mean, for me … It just … won’t happen again. I promise.”
Silence, as I try to make sense of that.
“You are apologizing for taking off on me in the forest, right?” I say.
His head shoots up. “What?”
“For stomping off in a huff and leaving me alone out there.”
His eyes widen. “Hell, no. I didn’t—I walked away, sure, but not far. I figured you could still see me. I was just … I was getting some distance. Cooling off. Not because I was angry. Just … cooling down. When I turned around, you were gone, and I didn’t blame you, considering what I did.”
“What did you do?”
He looks at me, part confusion and part wariness, as if I’m asking such a silly question that it must be a trick. Then he shifts his weight, looking uncomfortable, and says, “Forcing myself … you know. The kiss and … pushing. I didn’t mean to, and I thought you were reciprocating, but clearly I misinterpreted, and when you told me to stop, I didn’t.”
“You did stop.”
“Only after you said it twice and pushed me away. I heard you the first time, and I don’t know why I didn’t stop.” He shakes his head. “Fuck, yeah, I know. I was pretending I didn’t hear in case you didn’t mean it, and if you did mean it, then you’d say it again, only you shouldn’t need to say it again and…” He exhales. “I fucked up, Casey. I really fucked up, and all I can say is that I’m sorry, and it’ll never happen again.”
I’m quiet for a moment, considering my words, then say, carefully, “I did reciprocate, Eric. You’re the one who didn’t want it.”
“I—”
“Twice you said—very clearly—that you didn’t want it. I’m not going to have sex with a guy who’ll regret it ten minutes later. I’m especially not going to have sex with my boss if he’ll regret it ten minutes later.”
He frowns, and I can see he’s honestly working through why that would be a bigger problem.
“Oh,” he says after a moment. “Yeah, I guess … I hadn’t thought—Fuck, I wasn’t thinking at all.”
“You were stressed, and that was the outlet. I understand.”
“I … No, it wasn’t…” He’s working this through, too, furiously. I’m suddenly exhausted, and I want to say, Go, Eric. Just go.
“Regardless of why you kissed me,” I say, “I didn’t have a problem with it. I didn’t have a problem with it taking a second no to stop you. At that speed, it’s harder to throw on the brakes. I did have a problem with you walking off, because I thought you just got pissy at me saying no. If that isn’t the case—”
“It’s not. At all. I was angry with myself—”
“Then I accept that, and I’d like to move on. My next interview should be here any second.”
“I wanted to kiss you,” he blurts. “When I said I didn’t, I…” More hands through hair. Then hands shoved in pockets. “What I meant is that as much as I wanted what we were doing, I know we shouldn’t. It’s just a really bad idea for you and me to start something, and yeah, maybe that wasn’t starting something for you, maybe it was just sex, but it was different for me, and—” He exhales hard. “Shit. Stop babbling. Okay. The point is that even if you were interested, there’s a lot of crap in my life, and you don’t need to share that.”
Silence ticks past as I mentally vacillate between saying what I want to say and keeping my mouth shut.
Mentally vacillate? Hell, no. That makes it sound so calm and reasoned. My brain swirls, half of it screaming at me to do it, just do it, stop being such a wimp and take the leap, and the other half screaming at me to keep my mouth shut, don’t go there, don’t open myself up.
I raise my gaze to his. “And what if I want to share that?”
A one-second pause. A split second of surprise and something I can’t quite catch. Then he looks away, and I feel that break like a punch. See? See? I told you to keep your damned mouth shut, Casey.
“You tell me I need to go after what I want,” I say. “But this isn’t about what I want, is it? It’s not about whether I’m willing to share your shit. You don’t want to share it.”
“It isn’t—”
“My next interview will be here any moment. Please go down and let him in.”
“I—”
“Go, Eric. Now.”