Chapter Seventeen
Bailey could go homenow. The storm had passed, and while the paths would be a mess, she could pick her way through them. Sleep in her own bed. Grab a change of clothes that weren’t hurriedly shoved into a duffel bag.
She didn’t want to leave Jonathan alone when he was coping with this. Even if he wouldn’t speak to her, she wanted to be here. She grabbed a book from the living-room shelf, and settled in to read.
The next thing she was aware of was the scent of brewing coffee. She used the smell to force her eyes open. The storm shutters were open, and the early morning sun spilled into the room, striking her face. She stretched her neck and shoulders the best she could, and her bookthunkedto the ground. Note to self—falling asleep on the couch sitting up was a bad idea. The coffee meant Jonathan was up. What kind of mood would he be in? Angry would be better than impassive. Regardless, she hoped he wouldn’t shut her out.
She padded into the kitchen and found him leaning against the far counter, a mug in hand and a second sitting next to him. “For you.” He nodded at the latter.
She grabbed the cup and put some distance between them again. His eyes held the same haunted look as the night before. He’d shaved. Changed. His hair was damp. Cleaning up didn’t hide his grief. Once again, the wordshow are you doingdied on her lips. She held up the mug. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” He didn’t drink his coffee. Silence filled the room, and neither of them maintained eye contact. “Do you have plans this morning?” His abrupt question startled her.
“Same plans I’ve had all week.” What she intended as teasing came out tired.
“We should go out for breakfast.”
“What?”
His smile looked as though it took effort, but it was still pleasant. “We’ll stop by your place, and you can change and shower. Then we’ll go toBobbie’s. Let someone else who has food in their kitchen do the cooking. Give the locals something to talk about.”
“Like what?”
“I’m not dim. Every single person we’ve run into since I arrived is muttering about what a cute couple we make and how it’s about time. Us at breakfast together ought to make their day, regardless of the reality.”
Hedidnotice the stares and whispers. She shouldn’t be surprised. His qualifier gnawed at something inside, but she couldn’t argue. They weren’t a couple; they’d both agreed. “Breakfast sounds good.”
“Do you need help making sure your cast stays dry in the shower?” He winked. Like all his other expressions this morning, it looked forced.
She shook her head. “You can help me put a plastic bag around it.”
Conversation was stuttered at best, as he drove them to her place. She struggled to get her clothes off around the cast without help. She needed to learn sooner rather than later. When she snagged the plaster, and jarred her shoulder, a scream tore from her throat before she could stop it.Fuck, that hurt.
Jonathan pounded on the bedroom door. “What happened?”
She swallowed past the jolt and let him in, relieved the spike of pain evaporated quickly. “I think I need help.”