Page 127 of Break Point
“I’ll take the couch,” he says, rolling his suitcase deeper into the room. “Do you want to order room service and go to bed?”
He kneels in front of his suitcase, places it flat on the carpet, and unzips it like it’s a regular occurrence. Like this is what we do every tournament.
All the while, I stare at him, trying to come to terms with the fact thatthisis really happening.
I laugh under my breath at the absurdity of his statement.
“Have you seen the couch?” I point at it like it just insulted my entire bloodline. “You’re not exactly petite.”
He snorts.
“I’ll manage.”
“Your shoulder,” I remind him.
He knows he’s injured.
I know he’s injured.
The fact that it’s taboo doesn’t make it any less true.
I don’t care if he doesn’t want to fully admit it or tell me the real story behind the injury. Or maybe I do. I’ve had no choice but to let go of wanting to know.
The point is he can’t sleep on the couch. It’s not feasible.
“You’re sleeping on the bed,” I say. “It’s not up for negotiation.”
My hand stutters as I angrily scroll through the lock numbers and unzip my luggage to unpack. I don’t even know what I’m angry about. I just am. Maybe it’s because I can handle being around Henry all the time despite my feelings when it’s under a certain set of circumstances and within a specific parameter of unsaid rules. Or maybe it’s because he said we’re like brother and sister.
What the fuck was that about? We’ve kissed in the past. It’s gross.
It’s … frustrating.
It’s going to be a challenging week in more ways than one. It’ll be hard, but I’ve been known to do hard things. I’ll just hide his stupid cologne so he can’t spray himself with it and impregnate the room with his scent.
Yes.
That’s item number one on the list ofSurviving Mexico with Henry without falling apart.
“You’re not sleeping on the couch. I can’t risk you waking up with a stiff neck,” Henry says, pulling open the bottom dresser drawer and carefully placing some of his things inside. “You can take the rest of the drawers and the entire closet. I’ll make it work.”
Like I care about closet space and drawer distribution when his presence alone is already taking up the whole room.
“And I can’t risk you waking up with that shoulder of yours acting up,” I taunt.
He snorts out a chuckle.
“My shoulder isfine.”
I refuse to give in to the urge to yell back at him:No, it’s not!
It’s gotten me nowhere in the past.
“You have two choices to choose from,” I say, angrily unpacking my things, my hands fumbling before I force them steady, trying not to mess up Gemma’s intricate folding work. “You can either sleep on the bed or take Lydia up on her offer to check in at a nearby hotel. Those are your options.”
“Joe would be upset to find out I left you to your own devices,” Henry says. “This city is going through a bad moment. It would help me sleep better at night if I knew you were safe. And I know I’m more than capable of taking care of you. So just … let me.”
My pulse flutters in my neck.
