Chapter 13

I holdthe covers up to my chin and try not to shiver too loudly. Not that a person can shiver loudly or anything, but it is so friggin’ cold in this room, and I’m spooked about what happened. Spooked isn’t even the right word. I’m freaked out. Fully freaked out.

Because there was a guy out there.

Up until now, I figured this Franklin dude was creepy, but I didn’t think he’d go through with coming all the way out here.

Cash was right. Damn it, I hate it when he’s right.

And he’ll never let me live it down, either. Assuming Franklin’s not going to chainsaw me to death or something. Eugh.

It’s been fifteen minutes since Savage lay down on the floor out of sight, and I can’t stop thinking about him either.

He moves at the end of the bed, but doesn’t get up.

“Savage?” I whisper. “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” he says. “I will be for the rest of the night.”

“What? Why?”

“Because there’s a threat outside.”

“Yeah, but you’re lying on the floor,” I say. “Surely you?—”

“I’m keeping out of sight. And it’s so you can sleep.”

“You can’t be comfortable.”

“I’ve been in worse places before.”

I fall silent and gnaw on my bottom lip.

“Savage?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to lie in bed with me?”

Silence.

“Not in a weird way,” I say, “I just mean that it will be more comfortable for you.”

“I’m good.”

Why would he want to lie in bed with me? He rejected me. How could I be that dumb? I take a breath. “Savage?”

“Yeah.”

“It would make me feel a lot better if you were on the bed with me.”

“It’s not a good idea.”

“Look,” I say, slapping my hands down on the duvet. “I’m not going to touch you. I know you find me repulsive or whatever, but just lie on top of the covers. I’m not going to be able to sleep if you’re down there, giving yourself a backache.”

There’s a moment of tension. I hold my breath.

Savage gets up and crosses to the other side of the bed. He lies down on top of the covers with his arms folded across his chest. I can barely make him out in the dark, but his presence sends a thrill through my body. Pathetic.

“I don’t find you repulsive,” he says. “There’s not a man on this planet who could find you repulsive.”

Oh. My. God. “You don’t?”

“No.”

“That’s… something,” I say.

“You think because I didn’t want you when you were drunk that I find you unattractive?”

“I believe your exact words were, ‘you and I are never going to happen.’ So don’t act like it was about consent.”

“It can be about both,” he says, in a gruff voice that’s gravelly deep. He hasn’t moved an inch since he lay down.

“Whatever.” I turn my back on him and hug the duvet to my chest, my eyes narrow. “Anyway, after what happened the last time, even if you did want me, I”d make you beg for it.” My insides squirm. It’s a petty thing to say, but I don’t care. I’m tired of having my ego chopped to shreds around this man.

His flashlight turns on, slicing through the pitch-black in the room. There’s a moment where the only noise is the rain hammering on the roof. “Beg?”

“Yeah,” I say, sitting up and lifting my chin with confidence I don’t have. “Beg.”

“You wouldn”t have to make me beg,” he says. “I”d already be on my knees for you.”

I choke on thin air and stare at him, but those disastrously dark eyes are focused on me, and they are dead serious.

“What did you just say?”

“I would be on my knees for you.”

“Oh,” I say. “Okay, so that wasn’t just in my head. Good. Good.” And then I flop back down and stare at the ceiling wide-eyed because I have no idea what to do next. Or say next.

“Hannah,” Savage says.

I can’t look at him because I might melt into a puddle.

“Hannah, look at me.”

Guess it’s puddle time. I turn my head, trying not to embarrass myself by hyperventilating.

His Adam’s apple bobs, his gaze drops to my lips, and his brows draw inward. “Any man who doesn’t get on his knees for you isn’t worthy of your time or energy.”

I can’t talk.

“You deserve to be treated like a princess,” he continues. “Like a queen.”

“But not by you,” I manage, croaking it out.

“Not by me.”

My chest squeezes, and I break eye contact with him. “Of course. Because that would be ridiculous. Why would you want me?”

“Hannah.”

“No, no, it’s totally fine. I’m used to this kind of thing. Every guy I’ve wanted has always seen me as a friend or not a woman, I guess. There’s no future with me, ever.”

“Hannah.”

“Because I can’t have kids.”

Savage’s silence is deafening this time.

Why did you tell him that? He really didn’t need to know. It’s not relevant.

“Most of the guys I meet,” I say, because I never talk about this with anybody, not even my friends, so, of course, I’ll discuss this with my not-so-secret crush who won’t touch me with a ten-foot pole and thinks I’m pathetic. I clear my throat. “Most of the guys I meet either want sex, or if they don’t, if they maybe think they could have a relationship with me, they drop me the minute they find out kids aren’t in my future. So, trust me when I say, I get it. I get why you wouldn’t want to?—”

“Stop.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, hot tears stinging them.

“Hannah, don’t cry.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” I whisper. “I shouldn’t have told you that. That was—Forget I said anything, okay?”

He shifts on the bed. “Open your eyes.”

I open them, and I hate that I lose my breath.

He’s hovering right above me, braced on one forearm, and he sweeps his gaze over my face. He brushes a finger down my cheek, drawing goosebumps. “None of what you said is part of the reason why we can’t and won’t happen.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“First, you’re ten years younger than me.”

“Lame,” I mutter.

His lips quirk at the corners. I can’t handle it.

“It’s not like I’m eighteen and you’re thirty-eight. I’m twenty-eight. Age is a crappy excuse.”

“You’re Cash’s little sister,” he says.

I roll my eyes.

Savage’s calloused hand cups my cheek, and my gaze snaps back to his face. “I am a broken shell of a man,” he says. “I don’t deserve a woman who shines like you, and I never will. And you, Hannah Taylor, deserve a man who can give you his whole heart, not just the shattered pieces of what’s left of one.”

It’s the most I’ve heard him talk, and it’s poetry. My heart beats a frantic pattern against the inside of my chest.

“I can’t be with you, because with you, it could never be one night. And if it was longer than that, I couldn’t give you what you deserve.”

Tears streak down the sides of my face, and he catches them and wipes them away.

I don’t know how to feel.

Savage leans in and brushes a kiss over my forehead, and it burns hot and painful when he lies down on his pillow. “Get some sleep.”