Page 52 of Philly
Now back in their cabin, he lay under the covers thinking about how the resort had placed the bed in the wrong location. Situated parallel to the windows, Callie, lying on her side, had a magnificent view of the mountains, whereas he had a view of her silhouette—of the dip of her waist, the rise of her shoulder, the length of her legs. Not a bad view. Actually, a damn nice one. But not when he couldn’t—wouldn’t—do anything more than appreciate it.
She drew her legs up, curling into herself. A few minutes later, she flopped onto her back. A few more minutes passedbefore she flung an arm over her head and tucked it under the pillow. He closed his eyes, shutting out the way the move arched her chest. They weren’t close, but if he reached out, he’d touch her. Which he wouldn’t.
In the few moments of stillness that followed, he started drifting off—one of the skills he picked up in the military, he could sleep anywhere at the drop of a hat.
An annoyed sigh woke him.
Another skill he picked up in the military: how to awaken at the tiniest sound.
“What’s wrong?” he mumbled, keeping his eyes closed.
She turned her head. “What?”
“You’re like a cat on a hot tin roof. What’s wrong?”
A pause. “I don’t sleep well,” she admitted on an exhale.
“That comes as no surprise.” She didn’t eat well either. Although, to give her credit, she’d finished her salmon fillet at dinner.
“Rude,” she shot back, though he heard the humor in her voice.
He chuckled. “Do you ever sleep well, or is it because you’re sharing a bed?” If it was the sharing thing, he’d take back what he said earlier and sleep on the floor.
“I’ve never shared a bed before,” she said.
His eyes popped open.
“I’ve had my fair share of lovers?—”
“TMI, babe.”
“But I don’t ever stay the night,” she continued, ignoring him.
“And they never stayed the night with you?” He hated asking the question, but his curiosity got the better of him as it often did.
She shrugged, her shoulder sliding across the sheet. “I never invited them over.” She paused, then shrugged again. “None of them lasted long.”
He snorted.
Her lips twitched. “None of therelationshipslasted long. Which I’m sure also comes as no surprise.” He didn’t like the thread of resignation in her voice, as tiny as it was. “But I don’t sleep well regardless of who is or isn’t in my bed. My brain spins, and I start thinking about everything that went wrong that day and how I can make it better or how I could havebeenbetter. Then I worry about Daphne or regret selling my grandparents’ farm when they passed.
“I end up tossing and turning and the few times I did try to stay the night with someone, it never ended well. They made it known in one way or another that I annoyed them. It seemed easier to leave. MaybeIshould sleep on the floor,” she said, tossing the covers back.
His arm snaked out before he even knew what he was doing. Wrapping it around her waist, he hauled her back into bed, dislodging the pillows, and tucked her against him. Well,tuckedmight be too strong a word, as she was stiff as a board.
“Gabriel.”
“Take a few deep breaths,” he said.
“This isn’t going to work. I’m…too much.”
His heart broke a little for her, something he never thought would happen two weeks ago. “What I think, Callie, is that you were raised with the unattainable expectation of perfection, and the repercussions for not meeting those expectations were swift and harsh. It doesn’t surprise me at all that your mind is constantly trying to figure out how you could have done something better or been better. It was what you needed to do to survive. And even though you don’t need to do that anymore, it’s conditional training. It doesn’t just go away.”
She remained silent for a long time. But still, too. Except for her hand, which now curled gently over his forearm as it rested across her stomach.
Five minutes passed before she spoke. “I never thought of it that way.”
Again, that didn’t surprise him. Her parents had trained her well to assume everything was her fault.
