Page 122 of Unraveled

It was only Gian’s demand that she stay away until he called her back—when it would be safe again—that kept her from booking a ticket.

Well, that, and her brother.

Tommas was not letting her go, either. Each time Cara brought up her desire to return home sooner than she was allowed to, her brother was quick to shut that idea down. Things were happening, he would say. She was better, and safer, right where she was for now.

Cara knew better than to argue with difficult, stubborn men. Or rather, she knew which battles to pick.

This was not one.

Cara rolled over in the king-sized bed, ignoring how empty it felt to sleep in such a large space with no one else to help fill it up or keep her company. She had been alone for so long, happy to find occasional fun with a man, but perfectly fine to send him packing before morning even arrived. She couldn’t quite say the same, now.

It was only a week. The loneliness growing in her heart should not have been taking up so much fucking space, like a weed getting out of control.

Love made things difficult.

Complicated, even.

Cara thought it was kind of lovely, too.

She missed Gian.

Terribly.

Cara found her charging phone on the nightstand, and brought it closer, squinting through tired eyes to see if she had missed any calls or messages throughout the night. There was nothing, and that only hurt a little more. She had talked to Gian a few times over the week, but it was never long enough. Their conversations never had enough substance. She couldn’t see his face to tell if he was simply hiding something to make her less worried, or if there really was nothing she should be concerned about.

She knew the truth.

Gian wouldn’t have sent her away if he didn’t absolutely have to. Of course, something was wrong. Of course, he kept their conversations short and the depth of them at a shallow level, in order to ward off Cara’s anxiety.

She didn’t quite know how to tell him that it really wasn’t working. She was still lonely and worried. She still wanted to go home, regardless of what was waiting there—good or bad.

Still, she stayed put.

Cara rubbed a hand over her face, wavering on whether or not to call Gian’s phone. It was early to be calling—seven her time, which meant it was eight in Toronto. Gian ran on his own time, though, which happened to be like a well-oiled machine. Up before six, breakfast and a workout, and then out the door before nine, if he could help it. He ran on the same schedule like it was his default. It didn’t matter if Cara was with him or not, his internal alarms rarely changed.

She scrolled through her contacts, found Gian’s, and hit the green phone button beside his name. The call rang and rang, four times, then five and six. On the seventh, his answering recording picked up, and she ended the call before it even beeped.

Something wasn’t right.

He should have picked up.

Cara tried to push the worries aside, knowing it could be a million other things, too. Like a late night which had him sleeping in, though that had never been a thing before. Or an early meeting with whomever, which caused him to silence his phone. The second option was more likely, so that was what Cara chose to accept.

For now.

Even knowing that Gian would see the missed call and realize Cara had called him, it wasn’t quite enough for her. Maybe the man did have her a little fucked up in the head and heart. A bit too crazy about him, and them, even after she had told herself not to go that far with someone like Gian Guzzi. He was everything she wasn’t supposed to like—not his business, his arrogant, overly confident attitude, or his life. None of it was supposed to attract Cara like the dumb moth to the pretty flame, and yet, he had.

He was the first damn thing on her mind in the morning.

The last thing to cross it at night.

She kind of wanted him to know that.

He does like his pictures …

Cara grinned at her inner voice, got the camera set up on the phone, and held it out far enough to get a shot of her in the sheets, with the morning light coming in through the window behind her. The stark, white light contrasted against her body, but not quite enough to hide the fact that she had been sleeping in very little, just black boy shorts. Her hair was a curly mess, framing her face wildly, with no makeup to be seen.

It actually wasn’t too bad.