He moved into her space and reached out, putting his hands on her upper arms. “I’m sorry.”
She looked up, black liner smudged. “For what?”
“That you had to go through whatever you’ve been through. That some pathetic excuse for a human hurt you. I’m sorry you don’t feel safe.”
“Thanks.” She blinked, her eyes going a little shiny. “If it makes you feel better, I feel safer right now.”
His chest filled up with relief at that. “I’m glad. You can feel safe with me, Andi. I swear. I’ve got shit I’m dealing with and my life is kind of a dumpster fire right now, but I would never harm you—or anyone. I became a firefighter because I wanted to be one of the good guys.”
She stared at him for a long moment and then stepped forward, bringing her fully into his space. Before he realized what was happening, she slid her arms around his waist, put her cheek to his chest, and hugged him. The feel of her against him was a shock, but his reflexes finally caught up, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him. Her head tucked right under his chin and the smell of her fruity shampoo filled his nose. He closed his eyes and gave himself over to the moment.
But what started as comfort seemed to morph into something else as the hug went on, the air crackling with it. His body began to take notice of Andi’s curves, her softness, her warmth. His heart picked up speed. He stayed very, very still.
Her hold on him eased after a while, and she leaned back a little, looking up at him, so close he could see the dark-blue ring around her pupils. She wet her lips. “Hill?”
“Yeah?” he said, his voice suddenly hoarse as he worried she could read his thoughts on his face. In his previous life, he would’ve labeled Andi’s expression as an invitation to be kissed. But he didn’t trust his instincts on that anymore, so he stayed stock-still.
However, he didn’t have to worry about misreading things for long because Andi pushed up on her toes and leaned in. He closed his eyes, anticipation rushing through him, but instead of feeling her mouth against his, he felt the soft brush of her lips against his cheek.
“Thanks for coming over,” she said softly and then her warmth was gone.
He let out a breath and opened his eyes as she stepped back, trying to get his brain back on track. “Sure. Thanks for the invite. This was fun.”
She nodded and gripped her elbows again, looking more closed off than he’d seen her all night.
“You okay?” he asked, frowning.
She gave him a humorless smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. I think I pushed past my limit tonight.”
He had a feeling her limit wasn’t only about the late hour, but he got the hint. “I’ll head out. Let you get some rest.”
She nodded and they made their way to the front of the house. When he stepped out onto the porch, she said, “I still plan on giving you that tour.”
“Look forward to it,” he said, the awkwardness growing. “G’night, Andi.”
“’Night.”
Before he made it to his door, he heard the lock turn on her side and the beep of the alarm.
A sense of loss moved through him as he stepped into his empty half of the house, but he was thankful that at least he hadn’t acted on his stupid instinct to kiss her. He really would’ve ruined things then. He needed to get it through his head that Andi wasn’t looking to kiss him or touch him or do anything else with him besides hang out. Hell, she might have just been making him feel better by telling him she thought he was attractive.
His stomach turned at the thought.
Either way, he needed to keep his head on straight around her.
Chapter Twelve
Andi was lying in bed two hours after Hill left, still wide awake. She’d almost kissed him. When he’d held her, had been so kind and gentle about her fear instead of dismissing it, that frazzled part inside her had settled for a moment. She’d had the thought, Maybe him. Like maybe this was the guy who could finally help her push past her anxiety about getting physical with someone. That maybe she could have a normal night where she’d had a cute guy over and ended the date with a kiss.
But the minute she’d pushed up on her toes, intending to kiss him, a surge of panic had nearly knocked her on her ass. Flashes of terrifying things had flickered through her mind like a horror movie on fast-forward. She was alone in a house with a man—one she barely knew. She’d stopped checking in with Eliza hours ago, so no one knew he was still there. If she kissed him and he wanted to take it further than she did, she’d have no way to physically stop him. All of it had flooded her brain, dousing any desire she’d had with cold water.
She’d kissed his cheek and backed away, hoping to God he wouldn’t be able to see the panic coursing through her. She’d been stupid to think she could just decide that she could do this now. That she could handle interacting with a guy in that way. She’d been telling herself a story that when she felt ready, when she found a man she was comfortable with, she could do this. Like it was an actual decision she had control over. Her brain and nervous system had reminded her tonight who was really in control. Anxiety was a fucking dictator, not an elected official. You couldn’t simply vote it out of office. Anxiety grinned its evil grin and told you to take a seat.
And that realization had made her…furious.
Furious with herself. Furious with the situation. And furious with the disgusting bastard who had broken these things inside her. Even in jail, Evan Longdale was still stealing things from her—her sense of safety, her chance at a normal life, the simple pleasure of being able to kiss a man she’d shared a nice night with.
It made her want to throw things.
It made her want to cry.
It had her feeling trapped in a way that made it hard to breathe.
If she were the star in her own horror movie, the villain was winning. He had been for a really long time. She often liked to think of herself as the badass final girl—that was the kind of heroine she wrote in her books—but she’d been faced with the hard truth tonight. She was no Laurie Strode or Ellen Ripley or Sidney Prescott. She wasn’t standing up and facing her fears and telling those fears to fuck off. She was carefully orchestrating a life around them.
And she was fucking tired of it.
She sat up, pushed her blankets off, and got out of bed to grab her laptop. By the time the first rays of dawn started to peek through her windows, she’d already consumed two cups of coffee and had finished a long email to Eliza. Then she took a breath and opened up a new document in the program she used to outline her novels. She clicked to the spot meant for the title of the book.
Here goes nothing.