Page 45 of Solitary Man

“I’d never hurt you, Riley,” he rasped.

“I know…”

“He hurt you. He scared you. He threatened you with a knife.”

I hadn’t known Cash long before I worked out he struggled with expressing his feelings. The way he had reacted just now wasn’t great, but I knew this man well enough to know where it came from. I remembered what Birdie had said, that with men like Cash, a physical response came more naturally than a verbal one.

He cared about me. Maybe not the way I did him. But he took care of the things he considered his. I was one of those things now. He cared deeply for his family, would do anything for them, and now that family included me.

So I walked up behind him, and like I was approaching an injured animal, I slowly lifted my hands, resting them on his hips before carefully wrapping them around him.

I pressed my cheek to his back. “I’m okay, Cash. The police have him. It’s over. And I have you now, to keep me safe, don’t I?”

A shudder wracked his massive body as both of his hands covered mine, holding them, keeping my arms tight around him. We stood like that, no one saying anything, just me holding him and Cash keeping me there where he wanted me.

“The nightmares?” he rasped.

My eyes drifted closed. “Yes.”

He took several more deep breaths, but he was still trembling with rage. Finally, he said, “I’ll fix the wall.” Then he lifted one of my hands, kissed my fingers, released me, and walked out.

I had no idea what he was thinking, what he was feeling. I went back to my chair and slumped into it.

How was I going to get through to him?

Would he ever let me?

Cash stayed out late in his workshop that night and the next. And when he came to bed, I’d rolled into him, seeking his warmth and comfort. He’d held me, but there was a distance between us that had been impossible to miss.

He’d gotten up again this morning before I woke, and when he’d come in for lunch both days, he’d been subdued, closed off.

He was shutting me out. I could feel it.

It hurt deeper than any rejection I’d ever gotten from my parents.

I’d managed to finish my book the day before and sent it to my editor last night. Since I didn’t have to write, I’d spent the day working on a surprise for him. I’d also made Cash a chocolate cake, and I planned to sit him down and make him talk to me, demand it, before things got any worse.

I missed him, and I didn’t understand what I’d done wrong. Why he was withdrawing like this.

I turned to the door at the thump of his boots on the porch. Hunger usually drove him in around seven. He ate, but then he’d been going back out again. Not tonight. I was determined that we wouldn’t go another night without sorting this out.

He walked in and stopped in his tracks, his gaze moving over me like it had the last two nights. Longing and wariness there, all rolled into one.

“Hope you’re hungry? I made some of your favorites.” I smiled, trying to get something back from him, anything. “Steak and mashed potatoes and chocolate cake for dessert.”

His jaw worked. “Thanks.”

He strode to the kitchen and sat at his place at the table. I sat beside him, and we ate in silence for a few minutes.

“How is it?”

“Good.”

He wouldn’t look at me, and I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Have I done something…to make you angry or upset?”

His fork froze on its way to his mouth, then his gorgeous blue gaze slid to me. For the first time, there was nothing. His stare was hollow. “No.”

“It’s just that you’ve been quiet and we’re not…we haven’t…had sex, and I don’t know what I’ve done.”