“How come?”
He thought about how to respond, not about why — he didn’t want the responsibility, the heartache that came with loss of a loved one ever again. But he took his time, considering which answer to give her. “It’s the way I like it.”
Savannah frowned slightly. “Doesn’t that get lonely? What about your family? Are they nearby?”
Cole remained quiet, watching the way her hand stilled its movements when she grew unsure of herself, wondering if she’d overstepped a boundary with that question.
“That’s another thing you and I have in common.”
Her eyes searched his, trying to understand. “Your parents…”
“They’re gone. Have been for a few years now. It’s just my sister Marissa and me. She’s three years older and a pain in the ass,” he added, hoping to add some levity back into the moment which had suddenly grown heavier than he’d bargained for.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her eyes never wavering from his.
Realization sparked between them and their gazes remained locked together. Her eyes softened and prodded his dark stare until they were no longer strangers, but two people connecting from a shared loss that wounded so deeply, it never quite healed.
He took a slow, shaky breath. This wasn’t part of the deal. He couldn’t be getting soft now. Just because he’d brought his work home, so to speak, didn’t mean it was okay for him to get all mushy. Christ, what came next? Crying on each other’s shoulders? Knitting a God damn blanket. No f**king way. He’d do what he had to do to help Savannah. He wasn’t okay with seeing a woman suffer. That was all this was. He would not get emotionally involved. Couldn’t. Not again. He had a cabinet full of prescription meds that were the result of him getting involved in something he shouldn’t have once before.
“Thanks,” he bit out, more than ready to change the topic.
The remnants of food between them had grown cold, and Savannah looked positively exhausted. She sat slumped in her chair, her head leaning in her hand.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” He placed their dishes in the sink and guided Savannah to the guest room.
***
Cole’s home wasn’t what Savannah had expected. She wasn’t quite sure what she’d been expecting, but the large, modern third-floor loft with floor to ceiling windows and furniture with sleek, clean lines was unanticipated. She was too exhausted to explore, being overtired and fighting off a panic attack would do that to you, but she dutifully followed behind Cole, trying her best to listen as he pointed out things out to her. The small breakfast nook opened to a large living room with an espresso colored sectional sofa facing a large flat screen TV.
She’d already grown to love the large spotless kitchen, with its stainless steel appliances and rustic butcher-block island, even if the sight of it initially caused a pang of sadness to hit her chest. Thinking of cooking made her think of the compound, which made her think of the children. She worried about where they were now, and if they were being well cared for. Especially little Britta. The five year old girl was so smart and so tough, the toughest little girl she knew, and yet she looked so sad when she was loaded into the van with the other children. She hoped Britta was okay. Wished she could find her… But she’d put that out of her mind as she had worked, whipping up a basic recipe for fettuccine alfredo. She couldn’t say she’d ever made that particular dish at three in the morning, but her options had been limited with such a poorly stocked kitchen.
She found herself wondering who took care of Cole, and thought it unusual that he wasn’t married. He was in his late-twenties, he was kind and attractive. But just as quickly as the thoughts had entered her head, she’d pushed them away. She had no business wondering about his love life.
She followed Cole down the hallway, where he pointed out a large marble-floored guest bathroom and his bedroom, which she’d already seen, before stopping at another door just across from his.
He cleared his throat. “This is the guest room.” He gestured for her to enter.
She stepped around him, entering the spacious room decorated in creams and whites. The large inviting bed in the center of the room drew her forward. When she pressed a hand into the center of the plush bed, there was no way she’d willing go back to sleeping on that hard, stained cot. The bed was outfitted in the softest blankets she’d ever felt. She toured the room, running her hand along the smooth curves of the dark wood dresser and then turned to face Cole. She wondered if she’d be allowed to stay. There was something about him — she sensed it from the first time she saw him at the compound. Though she probably should have feared him, she felt comforted by his presence.
“You can, ah, sleep here.” He rubbed a hand along the back of this neck. His bicep flexed, pulling against the T-shirt he wore. He had large, powerful muscles in his back, shoulders and arms, but somehow Savannah knew he wouldn’t hurt her. He didn’t strike her as the violent type.
“Thank you,” she murmured. She tried to imagine herself living in a place so nice, but it was too big and too empty to feel comfortable. She was accustomed to sleeping in a bunk room with other women and children, relaxing to the sounds of breathing or soft snores. But still, she appreciated his providing this room, where at least she would be safe. She’d already noted the door had its own lock.
They stood facing each other, neither speaking, but each studying the other. Savannah shifted her weight, looking down at her baggy jeans and sweatshirt. She didn’t have a change of clothes, let alone pajamas or a toothbrush, but she wasn’t about to ask Cole for anything else. He’d been too kind already, and she didn’t want to wear out her welcome or cause him any objections to her staying.