Page 98 of Tempt
ZACH
We didn’t have the talk.
We spent the entire weekend she visited me in Chicago hiding out in my hotel room, steaming up the windows while the wind howled and the temperature dropped and the snow swirled around in the streets below. In fact, the blizzard was so bad, she stayed in Chicago an extra night—she’d driven down to the city, and I didn’t want her on the roads until the plows had cleared the snow from the highway.
Which meant I had a whole extra day to bring up calling it quits, and I still didn’t do it.
We talked about plenty of other things. ..our childhoods, our favorite songs and movies, our biggest regrets and accomplishments, our greatest fears.
“Snakes,” she said with a laugh. “Definitely snakes. But spiders are up there too. Really any bugs. That’s why I’m never going to Japan.”
“Japan?”
“Yes! I read that country has the worst bugs in the world. There’s some kind of giant centipede that sounds terrifying, and also a giant hornet that has flesh-melting venom.”
I laughed. “Are you making this up?”
“No! I read about it.”
“Well, I’ve been to Japan, and I’ve never seen those things.”
“Consider yourself lucky.” She picked up her head from my chest and looked at me. “So what’s your biggest fear? I assume it’s not bugs.”
“It’s not bugs.”
She poked my chest. “Tell me.”
I played with her hair, threading my fingers into it and slowly combing through the thick, gold strands. “I’ve always had the same fear since I was a kid.”
“What is it?”
“Someone dying on my watch.”
She didn’t say anything. She just put her head on my chest again and wrapped an arm and leg over me. But I didn’t need words from her. What she was giving me was far better—her trust.
Maybe she hated giant bugs, but she’d once told me without even realizing it what her greatest fear was.I want him to need me, she’d said.I never want to be scared he’ll leave.
I kissed the top of her head and held her tight.
Maybe tomorrow we’d end things.
* * *
Of course, we didn’t.
There were moments of silence between us, times when we were just lying next to each other, or eating room service, or hiding at a corner table in the hotel bar our last night there, hoping no one we knew would wander in. During those moments I knew in my gut I should bring up what had to happen next. But I never did it. I couldn’t bring myself to ruin the mood or take the smile from her face.
And the next morning, she woke up with a cold—her nose pink and stuffy, her eyes bloodshot, her voice hoarse. She must have sneezed fifteen times inside two minutes.
“Maybe you shouldn’t leave today,” I told her as she blew her nose again.
“I have to,” she said, sounding miserably congested. Already, her poor nose was red and raw. “I have dresses being delivered in the morning.”
I frowned. “I’m going to run down the street to the pharmacy to get you some cold medicine.”
“Zach, it’s okay. I’m fine.”
“Hush.” I shrugged into my coat. “Don’t leave until I get back. That’s an order.”
