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“What are you muttering about over there?” Sophia asked from her customary place in the bed. She was having one of her stronger moments, managing to sit upright in bed and comb over something on her tablet. I had a nagging feeling she’d been going over work-related things, but I kept my mouth shut. She wasn’t trying to involve herself as she had before, and if writing a few messages and looking over a few reports made her feel better, I wasn’t going to interfere.
“Smacked my hand on the sill,” I lied without looking over my shoulder, instead choosing to glare down at the little cottage.
“Then get away from the window if you’re going to stumble around like a drunk,” Sophia told me.
“I’m just closing the window, so you don’t catch a chill,” I muttered, reaching for the handle.
“Leave it open,” she said sharply. “It’s hot enough in this room without you making it stuffy. And honestly, catch a chill? You sound like a mother hen.”
I turned to frown at her. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m paid to be a mother hen.”
“No, you’re paid to monitor my health, give me medication, and make sure I don’t try to walk to the bathroom on my own,” Sophia said, peering at me over her glasses. “Not to walk around clucking like a hen, throwing old wives’ tales at me.”
“Actually, being cold lowers the body's resistance to airborne infections,” I told her, stepping away from the window as she’d instructed. “So it’s not an old wives’ tale. Which means it’s doubly important to be careful with you because you certainly have a weakened immune system right now.”
“That I might, but you’ll still leave the window open. I need fresh air,” she told me, her eyes following me as I walked around the bed to gather my things. “Now, is there anything else you’d like to harass me about? Perhaps a lecture?”
The reminder of Shane’s words thrown back at me again didn’t do much to improve my mood. But, despite my annoyance, I was not going to take it out on this sick woman, no matter how abrasive she continued to be. “I’ll be sure to pencil you in for a lecture later. I think for the moment, you could use more rest.”
“I will rest when I feel the need to rest,” she told me, her gaze still following me as I went for the door. It wasn’t often I felt awkward around Sophia, but the longer she watched me, the more I felt as though I were being examined. It had been a while since the last time Sophia had made me feel as if I were practically bearing all my secrets to her, and I didn’t have the patience to linger and find out what she’d seen.
“Fine,” I said, taking hold of the doorknob. “Just promise me you won’t push yourself too hard. I’d hate to have to do more than pencil you in for the threatened lecture.”
A smile pulled at my lips when she rolled her eyes and made a vague shooing motion with her hands. “That will be all.”
“Sleep well when you get there, Sophia,” I said, pulling the door closed behind me.
I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t reply, and I quickly but quietly made my way down the stairs. Even if I knew Sophia probably wouldn’t have batted an eye if I walked heavily, it always felt strange to make too much noise when it was late. Anytime I made too much noise in the dead of night, it always felt as though the house itself took offense to some unwanted, noisy intruder.
Entering the kitchen, I set my bag back into the closet and stopped by the back door. The cottage couldn’t be seen from the kitchen area, but there was enough untouched snow on the ground that I could see the light stretching across the lawn. The security building was in clear sight and cast no light, considering it didn’t have any windows.
“Yell at him, or mind my own business?” I debated aloud, tapping on the wood of the doorway and staring at the light betraying Shane’s presence.
Perhaps it was stupid of me to think I had any right to be upset with him. It wasn’t as if either of us had been operating under the pretense we were anything more than what? Fuck buddies? Friends with benefits? A convenient source of sex for both of us until either I got fed up or Shane got bored?
In the beginning, I might have thought exactly that. Hell, in the beginning, I would have called myself an idiot for even allowing things to go that far. Things had changed, however, and even I couldn’t deny that. My past self would have been horrified at the very idea of wanting to grow close to Shane, but I couldn’t deny that was almost exactly what had happened.
And whether that was a curse or a gift, I couldn’t simply stand there and stare at the lights of the cottage glittering on the pristine snow and do nothing.
“Right, maybe yell at him,” I said, grabbing my coat out of the closet. “Or maybe be reasonable and talk to him. Tell him the truth?”
I opened the door, my heart skipping a beat when I stepped down and caught sight of the cottage. “Maybe just yell, seems smarter.”
I continued muttering as I followed the trodden path Shane had used to get back and forth to the main house. I was a little proud of myself when I reached the door and managed to knock with only a moment’s hesitation. Even with all the doubt stewing in my brain, at least I hadn’t started doubting myself entirely and could manage to knock on the door without requiring a great internal debate.
That sense of confidence died almost immediately, however, when I saw the doorknob wiggle. When the door began to move, I felt my heart leap into my throat. The moment I spotted Shane standing in the doorway, looking tired and irritated, everything I thought about saying disappeared in a wisp of smoke.
It certainly didn’t help when I saw a shadow pass over his face when he saw me. I would almost swear he repressed the urge to sigh heavily as he stepped back from the door. “Come in.”
His tone wasn’t inviting, but I did as he said anyway, instinctively bouncing my shoes on the front rug to knock loose any stray snow. Shane closed the door behind me, stepping around to enter the living space as I took my coat off and hung it up. For the first time since properly coming into his house, however, I kept my shoes on as I followed him.
“You might as well sit,” he called over his shoulder as he rummaged through his cabinets. Nothing, from his words to the fact that he was drawing out a bottle of liquor, made me feel any more comfortable as I took a seat on the plush chair rather than the couch. “Would you like a drink?”
“You know I don’t drink while I’m on the clock,” I told him, realizing I was sitting at the edge of the cushion. Grimacing, I pushed myself back so I was sitting correctly before he turned around, walked into the room, and set a glass down on the table next to me before taking a seat on the couch opposite me.
“Take one anyway,” he said, his voice neutral, before taking a drink from his own glass.
Huffing, I picked the glass up and held it to at least pretend to be polite but didn’t bring it to my lips. “I suddenly find myself struck by the feeling I’m both unwanted and unwelcome.”
