Page 42 of Fighting for Valor
Too bad I don’t believe my own words. A baseball bat isn’t going to protect me from Jessup and Parr. And while Leland’s second call, where he apologized for driving through a tunnel and then said he just wanted to let me know he was going to find a way to send me an additional ten thousand dollars to help me stay afloat for the next few months reassured me, it also reminded me just how precarious my situation is.
Ripper shakes his head. “I still don’t like it.”
Warning bells go off in my head, so loud, I wonder if he can hear them. But I can’t stop myself. The words escape before I can even think them through. “If you’re that worried, stay. Here.”
“Wh-what?” He jerks out of my embrace. “That’s not a good idea.”
“No. It’s a brilliant idea.” I stay as still as I can, not wanting to spook him any further. “Hear me out. You want to sleep inside and you don’t think you can. I don’t want to be in this apartment alone tonight—and you don’t want that either. So…two birds. One couch. You won’t be home. So maybe it’ll be easier on you. And I won’t be alone, either.”
I hobble over to the hall closet and withdraw a blanket and a pillow. Is he about to tell me I’m insane? His wary gaze tracks my movements, and when I’m standing in front of him again, he accepts my offerings and clutches them to his chest.
“Can I…keep the drapes and window open?” The shame and desperation in his voice break my heart, and I sink back down next to him.
“Of course.” Turning my hand palm up on my thigh, I wait to see if he responds. “Tomorrow, I’ll be okay. You can go back to your life, and I’ll figure out a way to handle mine.”
Ripper covers my fingers with his, and with his free hand, reaches out and brushes a lock of my hair off my forehead, exposing the long scar down my temple from Jessup’s attack almost eighteen months ago. I turn my head, but he stops me by skating the backs of his knuckles along my jaw. “You’re a mystery, Cara. Thank you…” he swallows hard, “for taking a chance on me.”
Chapter Nineteen
Ripper
The bedroom door shuts softly as Cara disappears inside. I should go. Back to my apartment with the floor-to-ceiling windows, one of which opens out onto the balcony so I can get fresh air. I could sleep out on that balcony. It’s small, but it would be…better than this.
Or maybe not. Because I can still smell her. I’m warm from the time she spent holding me. I didn’t think I could let anyone hold me ever again. As weak and messed up as I was when Ry pulled me out of that well, I didn’t have a choice for a few days. Every time I wanted to move, to change clothes, to bathe, to piss, one of them had to help me. And every time, it sent me into a panic.
Cara calmed me down with just her voice and her touch. And now? I’d give about anything to feel her arms around me again.
There’s a soft melody coming from her bedroom, and I push off the couch and creep silently towards her door. It’s some sort of white noise. Peaceful. The door’s so thin, I can hear her moving around, talking to herself.
“Shirt, panties, bra, socks. Check. Meds ready to go. Check. Tablet and phone charging. Check. Crap. My box.”
The bed creaks, and I rush back to the couch—all of five steps away—sinking down as she opens the bedroom door. Holy shit. She’s wearing a dark tank and a pair of loose, flowing pants that highlight her curves. Her nipples tighten as the chill in the living room reaches her, and she hugs herself tightly. “Sorry,” she says. “I just needed to get…um…” Darting towards me, she snatches a gray canvas box from the small end table and tucks it under her arm.
“Don’t apologize, sunshine. This is your place.”
Her cheeks pink, and she backs towards her room. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
“That would require me to sleep. Pretty slim chance of that.” The look on her face makes me regret my words almost immediately. “Doesn’t matter where I lay my head, Cara. Haven’t slept well in six years. Probably won’t start tonight. And it doesn’t matter. If I can make it until sunrise indoors, that’ll be enough.”
“I have melatonin,” she offers.
“Doesn’t do shit for me. I’ve tried sleeping pills, alcohol, meditation, and pushing my body to its physical limits. There’s nothing that can calm me down when it gets dark and I’m alone. I’ll be okay. Get some rest.” Patting the pillow, I try for a smile. The motion feels strange and unfamiliar, but also good. I don’t remember the last time I smiled without forcing it for someone else’s benefit.
“Okay. If you need anything…” She takes another step, and I can’t decide if I need her to stay or go. I don’t want to be alone, but nor do I want to try to face my demons with her in the next room.
At the last second, I ask, “What’s the music you have on in there?”
“You can hear that? Crap. I’m sorry. I’ll turn it down.”
“Don’t.” Jerking up too quickly, my head spins, and I grab onto the arm of the couch so I don’t stumble. Cara’s at my side before I can right myself, her warm fingers on my arm. There’s no urge to pull away. No need to hide myself, even though her hand is just above my wrist, over the thick scars I’ll never be rid of.
“My God,” she whispers as she notices the raised, smooth skin. “What—?”
“Not the kind of story you want to hear before bed, sunshine. Or at all. And I’m okay. Just stood up too fast.”
“Are…are you sure?” She’s only a breath away, and her scent is intoxicating. My jeans, tight before, now feel like they’re strangling my dick, and I force myself to nod.
“Yeah. I’m sure.” The words scrape over the lump in my throat, and I wish I could hold onto her. I think she’d keep me tethered to reality, and that’s all I’ve wanted for six years.
