Down Too Deep (Dirty Deeds, #4)(88)

Breath moved through his body, lifting his chest and shoulders. He shook his head.

“What can I do for you?”

“Nothing.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” When he didn’t give me an answer, I pulsed my hand on his leg. “Nathan…”

“No, I…I’m sorry. I don’t want to talk about this with you.”

I flinched, involuntarily squeezing his thigh again before I pulled away.

“I’m sorry, Jenna,” he rushed out. “I know how that sounded. That’s not…I don’t mean—”

“It’s okay.” Hurt filled my voice. I dropped my hands together in my lap. “I’m sorry for prying.”

“You’re not prying.”

“Do you want me to go back downstairs?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. He stood from the bed.

“Nathan, just be honest with me—if you want me to go, I’ll go.”

A heavy sigh left him as he pushed his hand through his hair. God, he seemed so conflicted right now. Why?

“Nathan.” I stood then too, getting in front of him. “Talk to me. Please…I can’t tell what you want me to do.” I cupped his face. “What are you thinking? What’s going through your head? Tell me…”

His neck rolled with a swallow. Reaching up, Nathan held on to my wrists and pulled my hands away from his face. “I don’t want you here right now.”

“Okay. I’ll go back downstairs.”

“I don’t mean here…”

My breath caught, the hand of rejection slamming me in the chest as his meaning became clear. He wanted me to leave leave?

“O-okay,” I stammered, shuffling back to separate us. I crossed my arms and then lowered them a second later. I stared at the carpet.

My discomfort was obvious, but how could I hide it? I wanted so badly to be here for Nathan, to help him, and he didn’t want me to be.

“Thank you again for dinner,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady. “I’ll just grab my phone and then I’ll go.”

When I tried to move around him to get to the nightstand on the far side of the bed, Nathan’s arm shot out and caught me around the waist. He turned to me and fit us together.

“I’m sorry,” he said, grabbing my face now and tilting it up so I would look at him. His voice was pained. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“It’s fine.” I stared into his eyes, my lips trembling. “It’s fine, Nathan, r-really. It’s…I’ll go. You want me to go.”

“I don’t want you to go, okay?” He leaned down, putting his face closer to mine. “If you’re asking me what I want, it’s not that. It would never be that. Jesus Christ…I couldn’t want you with me more, Jenna. I want you next to me all the time. You’re never close enough…I just can’t do this right now. You don’t understand.”

“So, help me understand. Talk to me.”

He just needed to let me in. We’d work through this together. I could help him…I knew I could.

“I know how this must look, how I must look to you.”

“What do you mean?” I pulled back to see him better. His arms dropped. “Nathan.” I placed my hand on his chest. “I’m not judging you…Is that what you’re talking about?”

No…How could he think that?

“I forgot.” His voice deepened and shook. “You know I forgot…you were the one who had to tell me.” Nathan read my thoughts and continued before I could correct him. “Through Davis—I know, but it was you who told me, Jenna. It shouldn’t have been you.”

The text? Really? Didn’t I already apologize for that?

“I’m sorry I read your text. I really wasn’t trying to…”

Nathan shook his head and sighed. He was obviously getting frustrated. “This is why I asked you to go. I knew if we did this now, you wouldn’t understand…”

“I’m trying to understand.” I spoke slowly, my voice pitching louder. “You’re not making it easy, Nathan. I still don’t know if you want me to apologize for reading your text or not.”

“I don’t give a shit about you reading my texts.”

“Then what is it?”

“I could’ve dealt with this on my own!”

I stormed around him to close the door. “The girls…”

“Fuck. Sorry…I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I don’t think they heard you.” I spun around to face him and moved closer, urging him with my hand. “Keep going. You could’ve dealt with this on your own. Okay. And with me here, you can’t?” What does that mean?

Nathan looked down. I could hear his breathing.

“Come on, Nathan. How am I supposed to understand if you don’t tell me?” I stopped right in front of him.

He lifted his head. Here we go.

“It’s fucked up, okay?” he nearly growled. “I know it is. I know how this looks. Who the fuck forgets the day their wife committed suicide? Who needs a reminder of the worst day of their life? I never should’ve had you here today, Jenna. I didn’t need you telling me Sadie died two years ago. That shouldn’t have been you!”