Page 41 of Fighting for Valor
His voice cracks, his cheeks tinge red, and he continues to lean close to the window, breathing heavily. I think he’d stick his whole head out there if the sink weren’t in the way.
“Ripper, look at me.” The haunted look in his eyes confirms I’m right. He’s about two seconds away from losing it again. “Go sit on the couch. Open the drapes and the window. Right now.”
I’m surprised when he obeys, and I limp over to sit next to him. “I get the idea you don’t like people touching you. Am I right?”
After a jerky nod, he clears his throat. “Only been back in the States two months. Before…I was somewhere else. Somewhere…not good.”
“Will you try something for me? One word, and we stop.”
His brows shoot up, and he angles his head towards my bedroom. “You’re not suggesting we—”
“No!” Now it’s my turn to blush. He’s ridiculously handsome, and as he was holding me earlier, all those defined, sculpted muscles were definitely not affecting me. Nope. Not at all.
I rest my elbows on my knees and lean forward, peering up at him through the corners of my eyes. “When I was a teenager, no one knew what was wrong with me. They just knew I’d get overwhelmed and end up in a meltdown. My best friend at the time, Grace, finally figured out how to bring me back when I was in so deep, I couldn’t see past the panic.”
“How?” His voice is rough, strained, and his hands clench on his thighs.
“By holding me.”
Ripper stiffens and starts to inch away. “I can’t…”
“Will you let me try?” Slowly, I reach up and cup the back of his neck like I did before, and his entire body goes rigid. “Look at me, Ripper. You’re safe. No one’s hurting you.”
His chest stutters, and I put my other hand over his heart. “Keep your eyes on me. You’re in Seattle. In my apartment. And you can leave at any time.”
“Cara.” The way he says my name…I want to do whatever I can to keep him safe. I ease myself closer until I have my arms around him and my head resting on his shoulder.
“Sometimes, we all need to be held,” I say quietly. “When I was finally diagnosed with ADHD and anxiety a few years ago, my therapist suggested I buy a weighted blanket.”
Ripper relaxes by degrees. Each breath a little easier. “A what?” His voice is calmer now too. Deeper. Smoother.
“A weighted blanket. It’s supposed to make you feel like you’re being hugged.” I chuckle a little. “It’s not the same thing. Nothing can replace someone else’s arms around you. But it does help.”
Even though I started this exercise for him, to help him calm down, it’s helping me more than I want to admit. I’ve been alone for so long. I didn’t realize how much I missed…being touched.
When he sighs and we relax against the cushions, I close my eyes, and his voice rumbles against my ear. “I haven’t spent this long inside at night since I got back.”
“That’s good, right?” I stifle my yawn against his shoulder. “What changed? Why did you decide to try to sleep at home tonight?” If I stay upright much longer, I’ll start to ramble. And this damaged, handsome, protective man will see me for what I am. A woman who’ll put him in danger and probably get him killed. But I get the sense Ripper doesn’t open up often. Maybe not at all.
The corners of his lips twitch. “There’s this dog…”
Ten minutes later, I’m practically in tears. I still don’t know what happened to him before he came back, but since…trying to find his place, wanting to be…better. I understand all of it.
We’re still intertwined, and his muscles feel relaxed, loose and warm, but definitely still…strong. “Do you feel safe here?” he asks.
“I don’t feel safe anywhere.” The words escape before I have a chance to think them through, and I turn my face into his neck, breathing in the light scents of bergamot and sandalwood as my brain scrambles to find something else to say that won’t make me sound like an idiot. “I mean…I’ll be okay.”
He shifts slightly so his cheek rests on the top of my head. “Cara, you don’t have any reason to trust me, but I don’t like the idea of you being here alone. No one around. The unit next to you is empty.”
Whoa. That’s…borderline creepy. “It wasn’t… But I haven’t seen the kid in forever. Are you sure?”
Ripper shrugs. “There’s an impressive spiderweb across the top of the door. And the knob’s dusty. No one’s gone in or out for at least a couple of weeks. Maybe a month.”
“That c-could just be…a really industrious spider.” I don’t want to think about being the only person on this floor. Not that I ever expected the young man living next to me to be my savior—he was all of twenty-two. But maybe he would have called the cops. And now, I’m kicking myself for not realizing he moved out.
“Do you have any friends you could stay with? Or go to a hotel? I don’t know what had you so scared tonight—and I’m not asking you to tell me. We all have our secrets. But I know terror when I see it.” Shame softens his tone.
“I can’t afford a hotel.” My own reply is barely a whisper, and I huddle closer to him. His sweatshirt is warm and soft, and I should give it back, but then my thoughts zing back to the question he asked me. “And I can’t really go to a friend’s. I’ll be fine here. I have a baseball bat in the bedroom.”
