Page 68 of You Spin Me

“I’ve heard worse.” He juts a chin at the small bowl of berries and yogurt in front of me. “You sure you don’t want anything else?”

I shake my head. “I usually eat after I work out.” There are a lot of reasons I don’t do sleepovers with guys. One, I need to move in the morning. I’m used to taking or teaching a class first thing. Or at least doing the barre.

And while it was surprisingly comforting to fall asleep next to Cal—even as a tiny chunk of my brain worried that he was mad I’d said no to sex—when my eyes fluttered open at seven a.m., doubt was already wide awake and whispering in my ear.

Cal sets his coffee mug on the counter and shuffles over to me. The careful movement reminds me that he got out of bed slowly too. Maybe the scarring makes him stiff in the morning.

Drawing a line over my furrowed brow, he asks, “What’s going on in there?”

Escaping his too-penetrating gaze, I press my head into his warm chest. After blindly setting my bowl on the Formica behind him, I wrap my arms around his ribcage. When I hover awkwardly, suddenly worried about hurting him, he sets his chin on top of my head to rumble, “You can hug me as hard as you want. It actually feels good.”

So I do. Resting my cheek against the soft cotton covering his chest, I soak up his warmth as we simply hold each other. I want to find my way not just under his clothes, but under all of his scars. I have a feeling that the ones in his head and heart are even thicker than the ones I can feel right now through the fabric of his shirt.

Something I might know a little bit about.

Unfortunately, that can’t happen right now. Discipline is a harsh mistress, but we serve each other well. Putting my body through its paces is the only way I know how to stay sane. “I kind of have to go,” I mumble.

Before I can take another breath, he slips out of my embrace and starts putting dishes in the sink, so I add, “Can I come back tonight?”

“You don’t have to, Jess. You can call me anytime, but…”

“Do you not want me to come over?”

When he glances back at me, his eyes are shuttered. “I don’t want?—”

Hands up in the air, I interrupt his excuses. “Is this because we didn’t have sex last night?”

He stiffens. “No. Jesus. Why would you think that?”

“Then what is it?”

His head slowly shaking from side to side, right before my eyes, his face hardens into a mask. “I don’t know, Jess. I can’t see…” He gestures back and forth between us as if that’s an answer.

I shrug. The little bit of yogurt I ate churns in my belly. “Okay, well… I have to go.” I grab my bag from the floor. “Thanks for…” I wave my hand around the loft. “Everything.”

For some stupid reason I’m crying, which I never do over guys, even though I cry about every other thing in the world. I’ve almost made it to grab my coat when he catches up to me.

“Jess—”

“I’ll talk to you later. On the phone if that’s easier for you.” I give him a real-as-I-can-fake-it smile and slip out the door.

Chapter18

You can get a dozen roses for just eight ninety-nine at Star Market today, folks, so head on over before they run ou—SCREEECH

CAL

When the door closes, I’m too confused to move. I’m also too wired to go back to bed, even though I barely slept a wink lying next to Jess. I spent those precious hours memorizing the scents and sounds and feel of her in case it never happened again.

Good thing I did because it didn’t take her long to figure out that she doesn’t belong on my island of misfits. Why would she want to hang out with a circus freak when she could have any guy she wants?

A whine from Blondie is the reality check I need right now. Taking care of these creatures is often the only thing that makes me take care of myself. Outside, it’s early enough that the streets are quiet, so we go on a longer walk than usual to make up for skipping it after work. When we pass the diner where I usually pick up breakfast, I decide I may as well grab it now.

After I push my way through the door, still squinting from the brightness of sun reflecting off snow, the counter guy greets me with a pointed look at his watch. “Isn’t this when you get your beauty sleep?”

When I don’t answer, he grins. “Don’t worry. I’ve screwed up on this stupid holiday, too. Get her some flowers and chocolates and beg forgiveness.”

“I guess I’m still half asleep because I’m missing something here.”

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