Page 27 of Control Freak

Emory tiptoed into the room. He took one look at me and smiled sympathetically. “Rough night on the couch?”

“Do I look that bad?”

He cringed and held up his fingers a millimeter apart. “Maybe a little bit. Want me to make you some eggs? Food might help.”

I sighed. “No, it’s too early for everyone else. Besides…” My stomach gave a sickly wobble. “Not feeling it.”

He nodded, moving past me to open the cabinet and retrieve a mug for himself. It was white and covered in black tattoo designs drawn by Emory. His best friend, Allison, had it custom-made for Christmas, and Emory treasured it, drinking from it every day.

“So, got any plans for today?” he asked in a clear attempt to shift my mood.

I groaned. “Just the damn Chamber dinner this evening. Damn, I hate that I have to leave Shiloh on his own. He’ll probably feel abandoned.”

I was in no mood to grit my teeth and endure handshakes and the few arm claps I couldn’t dodge. I’d trained myself to get through it, but it was never pleasant.

Tonight, they were presenting local scholarship and entrepreneur opportunities, though. I wanted Bailey there with me to meet some of the business owners. I couldn’t afford to miss it, for his sake.

It was going to be a medication day. I hated to rely on the anti-anxiety drug, but with little sleep and high stress, it would be a necessity.

“You’re taking very good care of Shiloh,” Emory said. “But if you’re worried, I’ll keep him company for dinner. Gray has a bike job he was planning to work late on.”

I frowned. “Really? Is that Kawasaki giving him trouble?”

“Don’t ask me,” Emory said with a chuckle. “He talks mechanics, and it all turns into teacher speak from Charlie Brown. Just mwa-mwa-mwa!”

I huffed an amused breath, nerves settling a little. I finished off my coffee and headed down the hall. I turned the knob on my bedroom door, expecting it to be locked. It wasn’t. The door opened, and I peeked in.

Shiloh lay under my comforter, hair tousled from sleep. I stared for a long moment, thinking of all the times I’d fantasized about Shiloh being real. Being here.

Now that it had happened, the sight made my chest hurt.

A man was in my bed, and I couldn’t go near him.

I slipped into the room and closed the door as softly as I could before going into the bathroom. My reflection made me cringe. No wonder Emory was worried about me. My skin was too pale, my eyes too red. I looked as if I hadn’t slept for days despite my nap yesterday morning.

The bed springs squeaked, and I flinched. Shit. So much for convincing anyone I was okay. I couldn’t even convincemyself. With a resigned sigh, I opened the medicine cabinet and withdrew a pill bottle. I shook a pill out, turned on the faucet, and cupped my hand under the stream of water.

The pill went down easier than my pride. The cool water refreshed me some too. When I straightened, Shiloh was watching me from the doorway.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” I slipped the pill bottle into my pocket on reflex. I hated showing my weak spots to anyone, but I especially didn’t want Shiloh to see them now when he was relying on me to be strong for him. “How did you sleep?”

He stretched, arching his back and showing a strip of his lower belly as he did. The man was a sexy menace. “Good. Really good. Your bed is like a cloud in heaven, except, you know, I didn’t have any angels joining me last night.”

I chuckled. “Good. No one joins you in my bed except?—”

“Except?” Shiloh prompted.

I shook my head, surprised the thought had even entered my mind.Except me,I’d almost said. I was too used to our virtual role play. But I couldn’t say those things when we could actually make them happen, because I’d only freak the fuck out the second Shiloh tried to touch me.

I hated seeing the way my reaction affected my brothers. They understood my trauma and didn’t take it personally, but for a split second, they couldn’t hide that flash of hurt in their eyes.

It wouldkillme to put that look on Shiloh’s face. It would be so much worse because he didn’t understand my past the way my brothers did. He didn’t wear childhood scars like a second layer of clothing.

“You coming to breakfast?” I asked, changing the subject. “It won’t be long now before Gray gets hangry.”

“Sure, thanks.” He hesitated. “Are you working again today?”