Page 14

“Look.” I brace my hands on the counter, straightening my arms, and turn to face her. She’s staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows that line this side of the condo. The view is incredible. I can stare at it for hours, and some days, I do, with nothing but a glass of Glenlivet straight in my hand and my feet kicked up on my coffee table.

But now, all I see is her, tears slowly streaking down her cheeks, terror on her face like I’ve slapped her or she’s remembering a nightmare.

“Look, Cara,” I say again, swallowing down the part of me that still wants to be an asshole. “I get it. You didn’t mean for this to happen. And I apologize for being a dick, but you have to give me some credit here. You’ve dropped an awfully large bomb in my lap today.”

“I understand.” She wipes tears away, rubbing her fingers together. The emotion on her face dissipates, but she keeps her eyes on the view. “If you’ll show me where I’m sleeping, I’m going to go to bed. It’s late and I’m tired.”

Her voice is blank. Not angry. Not hopeful, and not disappointed.

Justblankand I’ve done this to her.

“You should eat.”

“I really just want to sleep.”

“Cara—”

“Please, Braxton.” She spins on her heels, facing me, defeat stamped all over her slumped shoulders. “I’m tired. You can process this bomb I gave you and we’ll talk tomorrow. Okay?”

It’s not. Nothing about this is okay, but there’s not much I can say. She’s been sleeping all day and her color is finally normal again, but she’s still pale and the purple circles under her eyes seem to be darkening by the minute.

“Okay.”

I push off the kitchen counter and open up the bag containing her prescription. “The doctor said you won’t need these tonight, but you should take it first thing in the morning. I’ll get you settled and see if Stella brought the crackers I asked for and then I’ll bring them back to your room.”

I hand her the bottle along with bottled water from the fridge and start walking. “Your room is this way. It’s just a guest room, and nothing special, but you have your own bathroom. I’ve got a cleaning lady who comes every week so it should be clean. I don’t usually come in here.”

“It’s lovely,” she says, as we reach the room. My room is on the other side of the apartment, around the corner from the living room, past the office. If anything happens, I won’t be able to hear her.

Maybe I should sleep on the couch, just in case.

“Braxton?”

“Hm?” I jerk my head toward Cara. “What?”

“You look lost.”

I am. So damn lost. This urge to protect her and care for her is insane, and she can barely stand my presence. Fuck the problems I find myself in.

“I’m fine. Was just thinking. Is there anything you need?”

Her nose scrunches and she looks around the room. “I don’t have any clothes. Or a toothbrush.”

She sounds as lost as I feel. Who can blame her?

“I’ll get it. Be back in a few minutes.”

I leave, not bothering to close the bedroom door. While I hurry around my condo, I head to my room and snag an extra toothbrush—stopping as a small whine comes from my room.

“Shit.” I stop at Lucy’s kennel and crouch down so she can sniff my fingers. Her tan ears pull back and she scratches at the kennel door. “I totally forgot about you, girl. Stella take care of you? Yeah?” She sniffs and licks my fingers. An abused bullmastiff pup when I started fostering her, she’s now well over fifty pounds, and growing rapidly, but still thinks she’s tiny. She behaves more like a lapdog or kitten than the beast she appears to be. “Let me get Cara settled and I’ll take you out, okay?”

She yips at my fingers playfully.

“All right. All right. I’ll hurry.”

Lucy’s whine increases as I grab a T-shirt from a drawer and an extra toothbrush. By the time I’m done, she’s pawing wildly at the kennel door and I know the sign.

If I don’t get her out now, she’ll piss all over the place.