Blow(61)

I was a dumb f*ck.

How the hell had I let my wall down?

I couldn’t do that.

I knew better.

I tried my best to put it back up. Staring longer at the sight of the crack down the mirror I had made earlier certainly helped. It served to remind me who I was, and what I shouldn’t be doing. I was the grandson of the once head of the Irish Mob who had made an enemy of the now head and I knew I couldn’t be seen with any girl around this town, especially not this girl. Somehow, some way, Tommy would find out, and I didn’t want to think about what that meant.

His day would come.

“Hey, are you okay?” Elle asked.

I dared to look at her.

I shouldn’t have.

When our eyes met, all I saw was the smile slip from her face.

I really was an *.

Dropping my gaze, I grabbed a towel and handed it to her. Completely pissed at myself, I avoided looking at her and answered, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

The chill in the air said I wasn’t.

She wrapped the towel around herself and then opened one of the bags she must have set on the floor earlier. “I should get dressed,” she said quietly.

I could tell she was putting up her own wall.

The tension in the room left me feeling guilty. I dried off and pulled my pants on, then turned to her and lamely said, “I have some things to take care of. I’ll be out in the other room if you need me.”

Her mouth thinned and I could see her armor go all the way up. “Yes, sure, of course.”

I was being a dick and I knew it.

The awareness of my actions cut like a knife.

Odd.

It had never bothered me before. I did what I did because I had to, and I’d grown used to it. Numb to any reaction. I shook off the strange feeling and looked at my watch. “Almost ten.”

Elle nodded. “I think I’ll just go to bed.”

I turned around to walk out the door and didn’t even look back before I left. I felt like I was bleeding. I wanted to kiss her. To say good night. But I couldn’t, because I knew if I looked into her green eyes and watched them fill up with some unknown emotion, I’d scoop her up and pull her in my arms and tell her I was sorry for being an *. The cold routine was for her own good, though.

That I wanted her but couldn’t have her didn’t matter.

I feared that if I spent another minute with her, I’d tell her why.

And then what would she think of me?

The closed door between the living area and the bedroom acted as a buffer between us, which was good because I needed to think clearly about the situation. And not the one that had just occurred. The one we were both in with Patrick, and Tommy, too, of course.

Someone stalking Elle made no sense. It wasn’t Patrick’s style. I started to wonder if maybe she was being paranoid. The shadows she saw could very easily have been caused by the wind. But where the f*ck was the garage door opener? Had whoever broken into her car taken it? I’d have her check for that first.

It was the logical step.

I pulled my body onto the couch and threw my head back on the small pillow. Exhaustion eased its way into my bones and I allowed myself to close my eyes.

Screaming woke me up.

Elle’s voice.

My heart slammed like a rock against my chest and terror raced through me. I bolted up, grabbed my SIG, and ran for the bedroom door. I wanted to kick it down but thought better of it and eased it open instead. Light spilled into the dark room from the living area and I shot a 360-degree glance around. The baby girl was sleeping soundly in the crib, but Elle was thrashing in the sheets again.

No one was in there with her.

Thank God.

After I realized she was having another nightmare, I rushed over to the bed and set my gun down on the night table, where the digital clock read 2:31 in the morning.

“Get out. Get out. I never want to see you again!” she yelled.

I might have thought it was me she was yelling at if she hadn’t had a nightmare just last night. The thought it could be me was like a heavy weight on my shoulders and I instantly regretted my retreat just a few hours ago. I stared down at her and kept my voice quiet. “Elle, wake up. It’s just a dream.”

Her fingers were gripping the sheets so tightly that I could see the material pulling. I placed a hand on her shoulder. “Elle, wake up,” I whispered.

She sat up.

Confused.

Exhausted.

Vulnerable.

My head spun a little bit and I realized I’d been holding my breath. Dumb ass. What the f*ck was wrong with me? I had to man up.

She looked at me and seemed to blink everything into focus. Then her eyes darted to Clementine.

“She’s fine,” I whispered reassuringly.

Elle was shaking, her body still experiencing the trauma of the nightmare even though she was fully awake. “What’s going on? Why are you in here?” she asked frantically.

The covers were tangled and tossed to the side. I pulled them up and sat beside her. “Elle, talk to me. What were you dreaming about?”

She shook her head.

“Who do you want to go away? Did someone hurt you?” My voice was unbelievably calm considering the thumping of my pulse in my throat.

Her eyes bore into mine, searching.

Something inside me said, Fuck reason. She needed someone. It wasn’t her fault it was me that was here. That’s when I did it. I moved closer to her. But that wasn’t enough to relax the taut muscles and scared look on her face. To try to help, I pushed her hair from her eyes so she could see me. “It’s okay. Tell me,” I said, my voice low.