"Nine-tenths of the Law" - читать интересную книгу автора (Witt L A)

Chapter Four

We’d barely caught our breath when Nathan sat up, inching toward the edge of the bed and away from me. He didn’t look at me as he ran a hand through his hair. The stiffness of his posture forbade me to touch him, the narrow gap between us forming an icy barricade that made me wonder if I’d imagined everything we’d just done together. If we’d ever really touched at all.

“I should probably go.” His voice was flat, devoid of anger or affection.

Disappointment knotted in my stomach alongside all the uncomfortable emotions that had started the moment we met. I knew from the beginning that this would end before it really started, but that didn’t make it any easier when it happened.

Wordlessly-as we’d done almost everything from the beginning-we got out of bed to get dressed. Nathan found his clothes between the bed and the door. I just grabbed a pair of boxers.

I flipped on the hall light and led him back into the living room. My cats glared at us from the sofa, eyeing Nathan as if to demand an explanation of this stranger on their turf, but he didn’t seem to notice them.

He cleared his throat. “Well, I…” He hesitated for a moment before finally looking me in the eye. “Sorry we had to meet the way we did.”

I shrugged. “Can’t be helped.”

“Yeah.” He paused, then nodded. “Yeah, I guess it can’t.”

We exchanged casual goodbyes, like two acquaintances parting ways after a five-minute conversation. When we reached the point at which a handshake was usually customary, we didn’t look at each other. Didn’t speak. Certainly didn’t extend a hand.

Then, without another word, he was gone.

The deadbolt issued a click of finality, announcing that the evening’s events had ended. He was gone. It was over. Everything was over.

Exhaustion caught up with me, and I leaned against the door. I sighed, trying to understand the confusing cacophony of thoughts that ran through my tired mind.

Jake was gone. Nathan had walked into-and out of-my life and I couldn’t decide whose departure was responsible for the heavy, sinking feeling in my gut.

I went into the living room and sat on the couch, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands. I’d fully expected a sleepless night, but this wasn’t what I had in mind. An all-nighter with Jake usually left me completely exhausted, but it was well worth it. Every time. Every damned time he made me feel things I’d never before imagined, and all the while, Nathan slept alone.

I groaned aloud as guilt twisted in my stomach. It didn’t matter how many times I told myself I didn’t know, that I couldn’t have known, it killed me now that I did know.

Leaning back, I put my feet on the coffee table and stared at the ceiling. Hopefully Nathan had taken my apologies to heart and didn’t hold it against me like I held it against myself.

Either way, it was done, and now that it was, I had the thrilling task of getting over it. I let out a breath and closed my eyes. Pity. He’s an incredible kisser and-stop it, Zach.

A furry head bumped against my hand, and I absently scratched the cat’s ears. He purred and flopped down on the cushion beside me. I looked down at him. It was Plato, my Himalayan, and even his rather undignified position-flat on his back, paws sticking out in every direction-couldn’t draw any humor out of me.

Homer, my orange tabby, hopped onto the other side of the sofa and cocked his head at me. He was just out of reach, his way of telling me he didn’t want to be petted, but he wanted something.

“What?” I had long ago stopped feeling ridiculous when I spoke to my pets. At least it kept the silence at bay and they didn’t talk back.

Homer’s head cocked the other way. Then he yawned.

“Bedtime?”

Both cats immediately jumped to their feet and onto the floor, thundering toward the hallway. There, they paused and stared at me, each with a look that said nothing if not, “Aren’t you coming?”

At this, I finally managed a half-hearted laugh as I stood. They trotted down the hall ahead of me as I turned off the lights and headed into the bedroom. Both sprang onto the bed and took their usual places-Homer by the pillow, Plato in the middle of the bed-and glared at me as I shoved them aside to make room for myself. At least it was just me tonight. They were less than thrilled whenever they had to sleep elsewhere because I had company.

I sighed again. Somehow I doubted they’d have to worry about anyone encroaching on their nocturnal territory anytime soon.

I flicked off the light, nudged Plato a little farther onto the other side of the bed and didn’t sleep.