Unsuitable

It’s late. Close to midnight. I’m in my pajamas, ready for bed, and I’m in the bathroom, brushing my teeth. My eyes are puffy from all the crying I’ve done, and I’m feeling emotionally drained.

Cece is already in bed. She turned in about half an hour ago. She spent all night trying to make me feel better. Not that much is going to make me feel better, apart from Kas, and it’s not likely that’s going to happen.

I haven’t heard from him.

I tried to ring him once I got home after Cece picked me up, but the call went unanswered. When I tried calling again, I got voice mail, telling me that he’d turned off his phone.

I left a voice mail, apologizing again and asking him to call me—well, I might have pleaded for him to call me.

I also sent a text, just in case he decided to ignore the voice mail. Of course, he can also ignore the text, but at least I’ll know when he’s read it.

Not that he’s read it yet. I might have checked once or twice…or a hundred times.

I spit out into the sink and rinse my brush under the running tap. I’ve just put my toothbrush into the holder when someone starts banging on our front door.

Cece comes out of her room, and at the same time, I exit the bathroom. She’s all wide-eyed. I think my expression mirrors hers.

“Who the hell is that?” she asks.

“I have no clue.”

“Daisy!” a voice hollers through the front door.

My body jolts in shock, and my heart starts to hammer in my chest.

“It’s Kas,” I whisper to Cece. Why I’m whispering, I have no clue. “What do you think he wants?”

And how the hell did he get in the building without being buzzed in? So much for building security.

“I’d suggest opening the door and finding out.”

“Funny.” I give her an unamused stare.

Maybe he’s come here to yell at me some more—or worse, fire me.

He bangs on the door again. “Daisy, open the door!” His words are slurred. He sounds drunk.

“You’d better answer the door before he wakes the whole building up,” Cece says with a grin in her eyes.

“Shit,” I mutter. Then, I quickly make my way through our apartment and to the front door.

Reaching it, I inch up onto my tiptoes and look through the peephole just to be sure. And, yep, Kas is on the other side of my door.

Bracing myself, I unlock the door and pull it open.

I smell the alcohol on him first. Then, I notice he’s still in the clothes he was wearing earlier.

“Daisy,” he slurs. It comes out sounding like Duh-easy. He steps through the open doorway and practically falls on top of me.

“Jesus, Kas.” It takes all my strength to hold him up.

His hands grab around my waist as he buries his nose in my hair. “You smell so fucking good,” he murmurs into my hair. “I don’t deserve you, but you smell so fucking good.”

He’s really drunk. Reaching out my leg, I kick the front door shut.

Taking ahold of his hands on my waist, I peel them off and step back, still holding his hands because I’m worried he might fall over. I stare into his face. His eyes are half-shut and glazed.

“Let’s get you to sit down, and I’ll make coffee.”

“Don’t want coffee.” He frowns. “Just want you.”

He wants me.

My heart lurches.

He’s drunk, Daisy. Drunk people often say things they don’t mean.

He lurches forward again, and I catch hold of him. His head falls to my shoulder, his forehead pressing to my bare skin. I feel his body tremble.

“I never wanted you to know.” His words are soft but choked.

Then, I feel wetness on my skin.

Tears.

Jesus, fuck.

I feel sick.

“I’m so sorry, Kas. So sorry.” Tears blur my eyes. I press my hand to the back of his head, holding him to me, as I wrap my other arm around him.

His face slides into the hollow of my neck, his even breaths hot against my skin.

“It was my fault,” he mumbles. “If I’d been stronger…fought harder…she’d still be alive.”

Haley.

Pain clamps down on my chest and twists my gut.

I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting tears. “Shh…” I soothe, running my hand over his head. “It’s going to be okay, Kas. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“It’s already too late,” he says, his lips brushing against my skin.

“Too late?” I whisper.

“For Haley…and for me.”

What do I say?

You’re still here. She’s gone. But you are still here, and I care about you.

I can’t say that, so instead, I say, “It wasn’t your fault, Kas.”

He draws in a shuddering breath. “You don’t know anything.”

“So, tell me. You can talk to me.”

Pulling from my hold, he lifts his eyes to mine. They’re still glazed with alcohol. “You don’t want to know.”

“If you want to tell me, then I want to know.”

He turns from me, eyes on the wall, and his body sways. “You don’t want to get involved with me. I’m not a good man, Daisy.”

He’s said that to me before.

“Yes, you are,” I argue.

“No, I’m not.” His voice sounds so sure. He turns his head to look at me. “I’m a fucking monster, Daisy. Not like those bastards, but a monster all the same. The things I’ve done…”

The things he’s done?

Something cold and hard settles in my stomach. “What have you done?” My voice wavers.

He holds my stare for a moment longer, and then he looks away, back to the wall. “Nothing. Forget I said anything. I don’t even fucking know why I came here.” He stumbles back a step, his back hitting the wall.

I try not to let his words hurt me.

I try…with no success. They sting like a bitch.

Breathing through the hurt, I focus on him. “Let me help you,” I say softly, taking a step closer.

His eyes turn to mine. I can see fissures of pain in them, and they crack me wide open.

“No one can help me,” he whispers, broken. “I was lost a long time ago.”

Tears start to swim in his dark eyes, and I nearly start bawling.

“Fuck,” he mutters angrily. Then, he tips his head back against the wall, hitting it with a thud. He shuts his eyes and begins breathing in and out deeply.

I see movement from the corner of my eye and turn to see Cece standing in the doorway of her bedroom.

“All okay?” she asks, concerned.

“He’s just drunk,” I answer.

“I’m not drunk. I’m just happy,” Kas mutters.

My eyes flash to him. His are still closed.

I remember saying those very words to him when I was drunk.

“Do you want me to make coffee?” Cece asks.

I shake my head. “I’ll just put him to bed. Let him sleep it off.”

“I don’t wanna go to bed,” Kas mumbles.

“You’re going to bed,” I tell him.

“You need a hand?” Cece asks.

“I think I’ve got it. He can walk.” I nudge his chin with my hand. “Can’t you?”

Sleepy eyes open to half-mast. “Huh?”

“Can you walk?”

“Of course I can,” he slurs, drunkenly sleepy.

I reach over and lock the door. Then, I put my arm around his waist. Gripping ahold of him, I move him off the wall. He starts to walk with me, but he’s leaning a lot of his weight on me.

God, he weighs a lot.

I consider myself to be quite strong for my size, but I’m buckling under his weight.

I keep moving, trying to get him to pick up the pace before I fall over. We pass by Cece.

“See you in the morning,” I tell her. “And sorry about…you know.” I tip my head in Kas’s direction.

“Don’t worry about it. And he came to see you, so all is not lost,” she whispers that last part.

My eyes flash up to Kas, whose eyes are firmly shut, but I’m sure he heard her.

I give Cece an annoyed look.

She just grins at me and then disappears back into her room.

Sighing, I maneuver Kas into my bedroom and then onto my bed, which he hits with a thud and nearly takes me down with him.

Righting myself, I walk over and switch on the bedside lamp. The light illuminates his gorgeous face.

He’s sprawled out on my bed, eyes shut, breathing deeply, with one leg hanging off the edge.

Of all the ways I imagined Kas being in my bed, this was not one of them. Drunk and passed out.

He’s going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning.

I unlace his trainers and pull them off. Then, I stare at his trackpants and T-shirt.

Should I undress him?

Maybe not the pants, but I’ll just take his T-shirt off, so he doesn’t get too hot.

I lean over and grab the hem of his T-shirt to lift it.

His hand whips out and catches my wrist, stopping me. “Don’t.” His low voice is a warning.

I swallow back my surprise, feeling like I was just caught doing something wrong. “I was just trying to make you comfortable.”

“Don’t…want you to…see me,” he mumbles. Then, his tight grip on my wrist loosens, and he rolls over.

He doesn’t want me to see him? What the hell is that supposed to mean?

I retreat back, rubbing at my wrist. Leaving the room, I go to the kitchen and get a glass of water and some aspirin for the morning.

I go back to my bedroom, and he looks fast asleep, his breaths deep and even. I put the water and pills on the nightstand, and then I pull the duvet over him, covering him.

Staring down at him, emotion grips my chest.

I reach over and brush his hair back from his face. “Sleep well,” I whisper. Then, I lean in and press my lips to his forehead.

“You’ve made me feel again, Daisy,” he murmurs, surprising me.

I shift back and stare at his face. His eyes are still closed.

Then, he lets out a shallow breath. “You’ve made me feel…and I fucking hate that.”

Sadness engulfs me at his words.

I move back and watch him for a long moment.

Finally, I switch off the lamp. On quiet feet, I move through my room and close the door, leaving him alone.

“You’ve made me feel.”

His words haunt me all the way back to the living room.

I grab the blanket off the back of the armchair and turn off the light.

I could sleep in Jesse’s unused room, but I don’t think I’ll be getting much sleep tonight. So, I lie down on the sofa, cover myself with the blanket, and stare up at the darkened ceiling.