Page 22 of Letting Go

"Yes," she whispers.

I reach for her door but there's a bolt on it. It's new and it doesn’t budge.

I hear another whimper and turn around to see her eyes go wide again.

"Hey—look at me. Right here. Standing right here. There's something wrong with the door. I'm going to go out mine and I'll leave all the doors open. Got it?"

I'm trying to sort it out in the seconds it takes to fill a paper cup. Bad dream? Night terror? I didn't see her phone anywhere, so not a conversation.

I'm back in less than a minute, with a cup and a washcloth and she hasn’t moved from the edge of the bed. I give her the cup of water. My shoulders and chest are wet with her tears and I stand up, close the window sash and sit next to her.

I'm afraid to touch her. Until I know what's wrong, I don’t want to provide any triggers.

It takes a few minutes before she looks at me, sniffs, and wipes her face with the washcloth. "Thank you," she says. I feel so stupid. I'm so sorry." She starts to fold it up and I take it from her and toss it to the floor.

When she leans her head against me, I slip an arm around her. She's still vibrating, and her thighs shake intermittently.

"Nothing to apologize for."

"No," she shakes her head. "There is. I'm sorry." She straightens up and looks at me and then away. "I panicked. I panicked because I couldn’t get out."

"Are you claustrophobic?"

"No … no. Not exactly. It's more situational, I guess. I just, I can't stand the idea of not being able to get out of a room. And then I couldn't get out and I don't know what I was thinking. I think I thought I'd just go out the window."

I take a finger and lift her chin. "Chloe, you don't ever have to apologize. It's fine. You were scared."

I rubbed her back in small circular swirls while she tried to stop trembling.

"I had to go to the bathroom," she says by way of further explanation. "Still have to." Rising, a little shaky on her feet. she holds the paper cup in one hand.

"Be right back."

I gesture to the open door between our rooms

"That used to be Devon's room this was mine. In the offseason. We'd end up in each other's bedroom a lot."

She pads around the corner to the bathroom.

I stare at the window. Was she seriously thinking of trying to climb out? Next, I check the jammed bolt. It's so new there's still wood shavings on the floor. None of the rooms are bolted. There's just a big bowl of skeleton keys in the office lobby and anyone can help themselves. Someone had chiseled this out off-center and the bolt wasn't sitting correctly.

Chloe returned with another full cup of water.

"Is this the first time you've used the bolt?"

"Yes." Deep, shaky sigh. "Listen, I'm so sorry. I need to go to bed now. I am so wiped. I really did a number on myself."

She must have splashed water on her face because tiny curls are forming along the top of her forehead. She looks beautiful. Her skin is gorgeous, smooth, tanned, and with a soft sheen.

"Of course."

"I am sorry. I’ll fix the door tomorrow," she says switching off the lamp and, in the moonlight, her skin seems to glow. She's still shaking a little and rubs her thighs hard.

Backlit, through the sheer nightgown I can see her figure, her breasts moving freely underneath, her stomach flat, her ass high and round. When she straightens, her nipples are hard under the material.

Something stirs deep in my groin, and I square my shoulders.

She's the boss's girlfriend's sister. This is not good. Stop it. "I can reset the bolt. I think it’s seated too high and it jammed."