My eyes fall closed and maybe I sway a bit, but when he steadies me there, he’s too much without trying to be anything, and I have to look at him again.
“Let me show you where the guest room is.”
Darren frowns at the shorts I’m still holding. “Let me help—”
“I’ve got it. I was fine before, and I’m fine now.”
“I took care of your jeans the last time.”
“Ah, yes, part of the touching,” I say dryly. “I remember it well.”
“But you don’t want me to touch you again?”
“A cut on my thigh was never meant to be bait.”
The low sound Darren makes is somewhere between a laugh and a growl, and despite a thousand reasons not to, I’m watching his mouth too closely when he speaks.
“I’m not that hungry, Jake. I don’t bite unless I want to.”
He backs away from me then, and moves toward my bedroom door, unnaturally patient in a way that makes me want to scream. I throw my sleep shorts onto my bed and pretend the movement doesn’t strain a body that’s been through too much, swallowing anything that might give me away. Then I’m stepping past Darren, my limp less pronounced if I’m stubbornenough, and he follows me down the hall.
The guest room is probably more ready than it’s ever been, everything refreshed when Lucy moved to the desert, just in case she ever needs to come home for a night. I turn on the light before giving Darren a moment to look around, and I hate that I shiver when I feel him at my back.
I’m wearing a basic t-shirt and bloody jeans, but I shouldn’t be cold.
“Like I said, there are plenty of blankets and some extra pillows, and the bed is very comfortable. The bathroom has clean towels, a new toothbrush and toothpaste, plus shampoo and everything else for a shower. You’re welcome to anything you want from the kitchen, too. Make yourself at home.”
Darren finally delivers the low whistle I’d expected all along. “I had no idea. And I feel so stupid.”
“You? Stupid?” I huff, incredulous and too exhausted to hide it.
Turning toward him helps nothing while he’s as close as he is, and when my balance is thrown again, he catches me easily. His hands stay at my waist as he shrugs.
“You livehere,and you have a guest room with a new toothbrush, and you sleep in actual pajama pants after spending a quiet night with wine in a backyard that looks likethat, and I—I just didn’t know.”
“Ah, we’re back to your imagination again,” I murmur. “Is this a problem you have with all the men you drive home?”
His grip on me tightens. “I don’t imagine them doing much beyond writhing beneath me.”
“Beneath you?”
“Or they can pin me to their mattress. Or we could find the nearest wall.” Darren pauses and tilts his head. “Didyouimagine I’d be particularly picky about that?”
I’d love to tell him I’ve never thought about it at all, but I’ve been celibate, not dead, and I ignore the question entirely while probably making things worse.
“Is there anything else you need from me tonight?” I ask.
Making eye contact is dangerous when I’m this tired and Darren’s fingers slip under the hem of my shirt just so he can feel my skin again. Maybe touching me is about the crash, and maybe it’s not, but suddenly I don’t know how I want him to answer my question. Idoknow that my jeans are too tight, and it’s been so long since I’ve had someone in a position to relieve that ache for me, and maybe something in my expression gives all of that away.
He smiles. “Is there anything else you need fromme?”
“I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
It’s probably too much to confess this far away from a church, but it’s the truth and I can’t be ashamed of it now. Something about my tone, stripped down to nothing, gets to Darren though, and I watch him exchange his charm for something terribly honest. I don't know whether what he says next will heal me or tear open the wounds he’s only just wiped clean, and maybe he doesn’t either, everything silent between us except for each ragged breath I take while I wait.
“You need to sleep—andsoon,” he finally starts, his handsthreatening nothing when they inch higher and hold me still. “I’ll check on you a few times, but other than that, I’m going to leave you alone. It’s been a really long night.”
“That’s not what you wanted to say.” I narrow my eyes, frustration close to pooling there. “It’s not what you were going to offer. Are you really that worried you’ll break me with a few words? A suggestion or two?”