Dane

That was the second time she'd touched his arm, right on the skin. It gave him goosebumps and it suddenly occurred to him how infrequently anyone touched him. Except Chris. When they were fighting.

​​

How had he become so alone?

The words came out without him thinking them, but they were true.

"I don't want you to leave."

She stopped cold, a couple steps from his door. His breath was shallow. He'd just meant to invite her to stay, but he knew she'd heard more than that, because he'd felt more than that. But he didn't regret it. Until she turned around.

When she faced him, she pulled that blanket thing around herself even tighter. Her chin was down, and her eyes only tipped up to catch his now and again. She looked wary.

She looked like she wished she wasn't there.

"I don't want to leave, either," she said. He brightened and took a step towards her but she just stepped back. "But this…isn't the time."

They stared at each other for a second and Dane had a sick feeling that whatever she came here to say, it wasn't good. "I have to be honest with you, this might be the very best time to tell me anything," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. "During the day things are so…tense."

Lila's face dropped. "How drunk are you?"

He shrugged. "Not as drunk as I was an hour ago. But you can ask Chris, he says getting drunk makes me normal. It's why I hardly ever do it." It was an attempt at a joke, but her forehead just crinkled and Dane died a little inside. "Seriously, though, Delilah. Come sit down. I won't get angry. Tell me why you're here."

She took a deep breath, tugged that blanket so tight around her he could see the shapes of her arms, then slumped. "Okay. Lead the way."

Dane turned and walked into the living area. He had only one dim lamp on in the corner because he'd been enjoying the lights from the city. Walking very carefully around the large, square coffee table so he wouldn't wobble, Dane headed for the seat in the corner of the couch so she could choose wherever she wanted to sit.

But she stopped before she'd circled the sectional, her mouth open, staring at the lights outside. Smiling, he walked slowly back to stand next to her. "It's a great view," he said quietly. "I like it because it feels peaceful, even when it's busy. You can't hear any of the noise. Just see the people and the buildings."

She nodded. "It's stunning."

They stood there a minute, taking it in. Dane tried to see it as she would, for the first time. Then she pulled her head back a little and turned toward him. Dane hurried around the couch to his spot in the corner and opened a hand for her to choose her seat.

She choose the opposite corner, as far from him as was possible. And she had that blanket pulled around her like she might strangle herself with it. "Are you cold?" he asked suddenly.

"What? Oh, no," her cheeks warmed. "I just…I'm in my pajamas. I didn't really plan…"

"Oh, right."

They both sat there, silent, Dane wracking his brain for a way to get her talking. "You said you wanted to tell me something? Is it important?" Stupid question. She was in his apartment at midnight. She wasn't coming to order pizza.

"Yeah, I guess. I mean… I've been thinking a lot today. After what happened."

"I'm sorry I was rude," he rushed in quickly. "I was struggling and…I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "I know it was a hard day for you. I felt for you. I wanted to see if you were okay?" Her eyes flicked up to meet his, then down again.

Dane swallowed. "Yeah, I mean…I wasn't. But I am now. I just needed some time to process."

She looked around the room again, a wry smile on her face. "This really is a beautiful place."

"Thank you." But as they sat there another silent minute, he was frustrated. They seemed to keep getting stuck in this rut of saying nothing. Why had she come? What did she think she shouldn't say when he'd been drinking? "I think, Delilah, you should just say whatever it was you wanted to tell me. I think…I think I want to hear it." He hoped he did.

Her hands were clenched in her wrap, peeking out from under that blanket. She chewed her lip for a moment, looking at them, and he had a chance to examine her—no make up, hair twisted into a knot on her head. She looked younger. Fresh.

And very, very bothered.

Had he done that?

Oh, fuck, she wasn't going to quit, was she?

Dane sat up and started moving over on the couch. "You can't quit," he said suddenly. She blinked and looked at him. "I—"

"I know it's rough—it's been a terrible time, frankly. And I'm going to work better on not yelling about it every day."

"That's great, but—"

"Chris was right to have hired you, Delilah. You were right about what was needed today. I hated it, and it's going to raise hell, frankly. But it was the right thing to do. I know that. I didn't say it. I'm sorry. Don't quit."

"Dane—"

"Would more money help? I can give you a raise. A bonus, for the great work you did getting us to the conference today. And the leads you've discovered."

She looked embarrassed. "That's not—that's just my job. I'm just doing my job."

"And doing an excellent job of it. Have I told you that? I probably haven't. So I'm telling you now. You're doing an excellent job. I want you to stay. And I don't think anyone else could do it as well as you."

Her mouth dropped open and she stared at him, finally, not hiding her surprise. Then the light went out behind her eyes and she turned away. "You're drunk."

"No, not like that. I know what I'm saying. I messaged you tonight because I was feeling bad about how I'd acted today. I knew I owed you an apology. I was going to talk to you tomorrow at work, but you're here."

Somehow he'd ended up right next to her, his arm on the back of the couch, now just behind her shoulder. He leaned in. "Why did you come? Please tell me you weren't going to quit?"

Her brows pinched in, but she gave a little smile. "No. I mean…I'll admit, I wondered. I thought we'd finally found a good place, where you knew I wanted to help you and I…I admire you." She looked away, but Dane's heart leapt.

"Delilah," he said her name, but he didn't know why, or what he was going to tell her. He just needed her to look at him. And she did.

Their eyes locked. But not the way he'd hoped.