For long moments, I wonder if I knocked myself out at the warehouse and this is all some kind of fucked-up dream. But the warmth his body emits and the way his deep eyes penetrate past the walls I’ve built to protect myself leave me vulnerable. There’s a reason I built them up so high because I hoped no one would ever be able to climb over them. I guess I just never thought someone would crash right into them.
“What’s it going to be, fawn?”
I take a breath and step out of his hold. As overwhelming as he is, he seems to know when it’s getting too much for me and I need a second to get myself together. “I can’t,” I whisper, but I’m not sure which part of this crazy night I’m addressing. I have no business dating anyone. Not Justin, not Tommy, no one. No one needs to deal with my baggage and all the shit that comes with being with me, which is why, as a rule, I don’t date. There are parts of my past that I’ve run so far from, hoping they never catch up, but that doesn’t mean they won’t. That’s the thing about the past. It has a habit of coming back to haunt you.
“You can’t strip?” He raises a dark brow and I nod, wrapping my arms around my waist in a protective gesture. I don’t want to talk about why. I don’t ever want him or anyone else to know all the reasons I can’t take this dress off, but although I don’t know much about the enigma that is Tommy, I suspect he’s not going to let me get away with it that easily.
His eyes turn from anger to concern with one blink, and I’m startled by how the cold, ruthless killer can flicker through emotions so quickly. He makes no move to reach for me, despite his hands tightening into fists at his sides to stop himself.
I cast my eyes to the hardwood floor beneath our feet and focus on my breathing. There are parts of my past I’ve spent a lot of time burying so deep no one can ever dig them up. And yet I’ve never been so close to dragging it to the surface as I am right now, standing here with Tommy.
“Clara?” His usually hard voice strains to remain soft, and my stomach clenches at the gesture.
“I think you should go,” I whisper because I don’t trust my voice not to break. How can I when the rest of my body feels like it’s about to crumple?
There’s silence for long seconds, and I can only imagine he’s trying to work out what to do. I get the impression he doesn’t have a lot of experience with women, and this might be too much for him. It’s not until his black motorcycle boots appear in my vision that I realize he’s made the decision to move to me, and a second later, he envelops me in his arms. His warmth wraps around me and soothes the raging panic threatening to rise to the surface. This is why I don’t let people get close to me. This is why my idea of a good night is to stay home and binge Netflix. Because if people don’t get close, if they don’t spend enough time with you to see beneath the carefully crafted exterior you show the world, they’ll never realize how truly broken you are.
I allow myself the comfort he offers, a brief pause in my need to be alone. There’s something about Tommy that makes me want to let my guard down, and that’s how I know I can never allow him to get close. I can never let him be anything more than a fellow Frost Industries employee. Because if I let my guard down, if I let him break down my carefully constructed walls, I’ll be nothing when he leaves.
“Fawn?”
I squeeze my eyes shut to ward off the tears pooling at the corners and push against his chest with as much power as I can muster. “Please leave, Tommy.” But this time, I don’t try to stop my voice from breaking. Maybe if he hears just how broken I am, he won’t argue when I ask him to go.
The arms around me tighten for a beat and my stomach flutters at the possibility a man like Tommy doesn’t want to let me go. But I can’t allow myself to be hopeful. Because there’s nothing in my future but me, myself and I, and that’s a reality I came to terms with a long time ago.
He releases me and his arms drop to his sides with visible force, but I still can’t bring myself to look at him. Shame creeps into my chest, and I’m powerless to fight the parasite I’ve been overcome with my whole life.
“Clara?” he says softly, and when I don’t move to look up at him, gentle fingers meet my chin and coax my face up until I’m looking him in the eye. “I’m sorry if I upset you. That was not my intention. I just wanted to make sure you were not injured. If you would prefer, I can arrange for a female doctor to come see you?”
“That’s not necessary. I’m fine.” The words are so soft I have to strain to hear them.
“It would be for my own peace of mind. I just need to make sure you’re okay, and if you won’t let me check on you, I can have someone else here in half an hour, max. What about Emerson? She has some basic first aid training if you’re comfortable with her?”
A man like Tommy shouldn’t bend like this. He shouldn’t be doing everything in his power to make me comfortable and make sure I’m not falling apart right in front of his eyes, and yet here he is, doing everything in his power not to overwhelm me. I can’t remember anyone putting this kind of effort into making me comfortable, and that only makes my stomach clench around itself.
I let out a deep, calming breath and look up into his deep eyes. “I don’t need anyone to look at my injuries, Tommy. Thank you, but no. It’s just some bruising that will heal in a few days, no need to drag Emerson out at this time of night, and you know as well as I do that Rayne isn’t letting her out of his sight since they found out they’re having a baby.”
What I don’t say is the last thing I need is Rayne Saint James in my apartment too. He’s always intimidated the hell out of me, and even now that he’s married to Emerson, he’s still scary as hell.
He considers me for another beat and then nods with a sigh. “Okay. But if your pain gets any worse than it is right now, I want you to call me and I’ll come get you to go to the hospital. That’s my final offer and I suggest you don’t argue on this one.”
I purse my lips but give a nod. He’s already compromising, and plus, he’ll never know if my pain gets worse and I don’t call him, so if it means he gets the hell out of my apartment, I’ll do just about anything right now.
He hesitates another second and then steps forward, pressing a kiss to my forehead and sending butterflies fluttering through my stomach. “We’re not done talking about this, fawn. But I’m going to give you tonight to regroup.”
Before I have a chance to respond, he tears his body away from mine and strides across my apartment without looking back. I get the impression that if he were to look over his shoulder, he might change his mind.
It’s not until the door slams shut behind him that I remember he has a key to my apartment, which means Tommy can get in any time he wants.
I walk farther into my apartment and immediately push my coat off my tender shoulder. Next, I kick off my obscenely high heels and pull the knit fabric of my dress over my head. Each movement makes me visibly wince, but at least no one’s here to see my shame. I make my way into the bathroom to the only mirror that can show me more than just my face. Thankfully the bruising seems minimal, even if it feels like I’ve been hit by a fucking truck.
But it’s not the bruising that makes my heart speed up and repulsion roll over me like a wave of disgust. No. It’s the scars on my torso. They may be years old, but they still have the same effect on me as the very first time I saw them, and they remind me why no one can ever see me without a shirt. Why, despite the fact Tommy makes me forget all the trauma in my past, he won’t see me the same if he sees how broken I truly am.
