He has no idea how poignant that question is, but he’s about to. I can’t fathom why my eyes are watering as I type my answer, and I refuse to acknowledge or scrutinize what it means.
Me: Yeah Keaton, you did.
And with that, I turn off my phone and finish my wine.
YOU KNOW THE FEELING, even in the very back of your subconscious, say…when you’re sleeping, that sets off your protective instinct sensors?
That’s what wakes me up in the morning. The sense of eerie discontent sounding off the alarms in my head.
I startle fully awake and bolt upright, spotting the source of my problem—sitting in the chair across the room, staring at me with a stony expression, one leg crossed over the other knee, fingers steepled under his chin.
Keaton.
Just Keaton. He doesn’t deserve the whole name I was starting to think of as reminiscently cute.
“What the hell are you doing in my house? How did you get in, and on what planet do you think it’s okay to break in and watch me sleep?”
“You left the back door unlocked, which pisses me off. Lock your fucking doors. And your final text last night pissed me off even worse. So I was waiting for you to wake up and tell me to my face just exactly what the fuck it is you meant.” His tone isn’t cold, like mine, it’s…scarily even and direct.
“Don’t make it worse, Keaton. I owe you a lot, you’ve helped me in more ways than you know, and for that kindness I’m grateful. In fact,” I crawl to the end of the couch and grab the box off the end table, “here, I got you a thank you gift.”
I throw it across the room and he catches it in one hand. “Take it and go, with my thanks for many things. We can still have an amicable parting, unless you continue to sit there and look me in the face like you have no clue what could’ve possibly gone wrong. Your choice.”
He says nothing, instead opening his gift. He takes it out, examines it, then traps my gaze with his softened one. “You bought this for me?”
“No, I stole it, for somebody else, but it didn't fit,” I sigh with a huge eye roll. “Yes, I did. Did I not just say that? I mean it, thank you, for all you’ve done. I don’t want to hate you again, Keaton, I really don’t. We’ve come too far, and I don’t want to go back to that place. So please, be the man I still want to believe you are, accept it, and leave.”
“So you’re not even gonna give me the decency of asking me? Just jumping straight to conclusions? No trust, no benefit of the doubt, huh?” His face flushes an angry shade of red.
“So you weren’t even gonna tell me? Just hope you got away with it and pretend nothing’s changed?” I retort, my own cheeks every bit as hot, my voice lit up too.
“I texted you that we needed to talk as soon as possible, Henley. So yeah, I was gonna tell you.”
“Okay,” I shrug. “Fine, thank you for that. But no need, I can fill in the blanks myself. You don’t owe me the details, and I don’t particularly want to hear them. Now if you’ll excuse me,” I stand, “I have to give Bourbon his pill and start my day. You can see yourself out.”
I don’t make it out of the room before I’m caught from behind, unrelenting arms wrapped tightly around my waist and hot breath on my neck.
I think I stiffen, rejecting his embrace, but apparently not, ‘cause he says differently, in a warm, deep seduction on my skin.
“You put on a helluva show, baby, but you’ve got one problem with your act. I can feel it, every time we touch, that you far from hate me. Your body won’t lie for you. And I have no plans to stop touching you every fucking chance I get, so cut the shit. We have it, Henny. No denying our connection.”
“Means nothing,” I whisper, though I meant it to be forceful. “Natural reaction. And I don’t hate you, I just told you as much. But we’re done, with whatever I stupidly almost let begin. Let go of me, Keaton.”
He does, kinda surprising me, and I scurry away to go grab the pill and then search for Bourbon.
“Hey boy,” I find him in his bed, in the room I dare not enter…unless it comes to caring for my dog. “I got your hot dog. I’m done with tricks and deceit, so I’m gonna tell you something. There’s medicine in it, for your own good. I just wanna be honest, because, I love you, Bourbon.”
He gobbles it up and I shake my head at myself. I’m a loon, projecting the things bothering me onto my dog…but I’m an honest loon.
“Why didn’t you sleep in here last night?” Keaton asks from the doorway, startling me.
I stay facing away from him, rubbing Bourbon’s back. “I think we’ve danced close enough to the subject to answer that. Didn’t feel right. And why are you still here? Seriously, Keaton, I do believe you care about me, so why are you prolonging my humiliation? Please, you’ve never outright hurt me, why start now?”
“I don’t dance. So I’m gonna put it out there. We’re talking about Addison, right? Do you honestly believe anything happened with me and her?”
I flip around so fast I have to catch my balance with one hand on the chair. “I saw you! On a date, in a bar, faces inches apart! So I know all that happened. And I don’t want or need to know anymore.”
Damn, the amount of anger in my screaming surprises me. So this is what really caring feels like. And jealousy. Also new for me.