I'm sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have said some of the things I did. I have to go back to Dallas for work tomorrow and I don't know how long I'll be gone, but I'm coming back to town as soon as I can get away. Can we talk then? In person?
I wanted to go over the words and edit them until they were exactly right, but I knew they never would be perfect so I forced myself to hit the send button.
Then, I blew out a long breath. I wasn't sure what would be worse—no response or him messaging me back and telling me not to bother.
I woke Cam up, made sure she shuffled off to bed, and spent a few minutes tidying up the living room. Even though I'd slept late today, all the emotional upheaval had taken its toll.
I was tired. And numb.
Just as I was about to turn off the light, I heard a light tap on the back door and ice crept up my spine. I didn't want to look, but I had to. It was a compulsion.
Slowly, I twisted around and stared out the French doors.
Gary stood at the glass with the little metal bowl in his hands. Shit, we'd forgotten to put food out for him. I wanted to ignore the little bastard but he actually looked pitiful rather than menacing.
"If I come out there to feed you, you'd better not do anything mean."
I swear that the raccoon nodded.
This was probably a bad idea, but I couldn't leave him out there hungry. It wasn't right. Plus, he might break into the house and murder me in my sleep.
I got a cup full of food and carried it to the back door. The bowl sat in the middle of the patio and Gary sat on his haunches on the grass a few feet from the stones.
Okay. No sudden movements. Eyes on the raccoon.
I unlocked the door and pushed it open just enough to slip out. Gary didn't move. I dumped the food in the bowl and backed up without taking my gaze off the little devil. He was as still as a statue, his eyes almost sad as he watched me.
With one hand, I felt around behind me until my fingers hit the doorknob and I opened the door. It wasn't until I was in the house with the glass between us that Gary crept onto the patio and stuck his face into the bowl.
Huh. Maybe he and I had just reached an understanding.
I watched as he ate, no longer hating him quite as much, and my phone chimed.
My blood surged in my veins. It was completely involuntary but I still cringed anyway. My thoughts had immediately turned to Ben and the hope that he wasn't too angry with me.
I took the phone from my pocket and looked at the screen.
It was a message from Ben. And I realized that there was something worse than no response or him telling me to get lost. It was one word.
Okay
The tiny spark of hope that flared within me at the sound of his message arriving died. I wanted to call him. To ask him if I shouldn't bother to come back, but I didn't want to make a bad situation even worse with my own neurotic behavior.
I needed to focus on work until it was done, then I could give brainpower to everything that happened with Ben.
I trudged to the bedroom, shutting off the lights as I went. I wanted to go straight to sleep, but I needed to shower. I could still smell him on my skin and I knew I would never sleep if I didn't wash it away.
I emerged from the shower ten minutes later, wearing the scent of apple soap and mint shampoo. I towel-dried my hair, braided it, and pulled on my comfiest pajamas.
When I picked up my phone to set my alarm, I found another message from Ben on the screen. One that brought that flare of hope back to life.
I'll wait.
Tears welled in my eyes as relief bloomed inside my chest. Maybe I hadn't fucked everything up after all.
I walked into my office at ten Monday morning. I hadn't slept much the night before, but I'd woken up feeling more like a human being rather than a wet rag full of regret and self-loathing.
I was ready to take on whatever problem Barnes threw at me and get the hell back home. To Farley.