Bound to my Enemy-Chapter 82.

"I fell asleep on the floor," I say quietly. "I remember that much."

"I know," he replies. "You were out cold when I found you.

Something twists in my chest. "You didn’t have to."

"I wasn’t going to leave you there."

I close my eyes again for a second, when I open them, my vision blurs and I have to blink hard to clear it.

He notices it of course.

His thumb moves, brushing lightly under my eye. "You cried a lot."

I huff out a weak, humorless breath. "That obvious?"

"Your eyes are swollen," he says. "And you look exhausted."

I shift, pulling back just enough to look at him. He’s propped slightly on one elbow, watching me with an expression I can’t quite place Something that makes me uncomfortable in a different way.

"Elaine," he says after a moment. "What happened last night?"

My stomach drops.

I look away. At the ceiling, at the light filtering in through the curtains just anywhere but his face.

"Did I.... Did I do something?" he asks. "Something you didn’t like?"

I shake my head. "No. Not really."

His brow furrows. "That’s not an answer."

I sigh. My chest feels tight again, but not much like yesterday.

"It wasn’t you," I say. "Not exactly."

He waits for me to continue.

I force myself to keep going. "It’s....old stuff. Things that happened before. I thought I was past it, but I guess my body and mind didn’t get the memo."

He doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t rush me...... Just listens.

"Trauma?" he asks quietly.

I hesitate, then nod once.

His jaw tightens. "Is that what the nightmares are about?"

That makes my head snap toward him. "What nightmares?"

He watches me for a beat. "You scream in your sleep."

My mouth opens then closes

I stare at him, stunned. "No i do not."

"You do," he says. "Not every night. But often enough."

Heat crawls up my neck, embarrassment mixes with something colder. Fear. The idea that I’ve been that vulnerable without knowing it makes my skin prickle.

"You never said anything about it" I mutter.

"I didn’t think you’d want me to."

I press my lips together. He’s not wrong.

"So," he continues gently, "is it connected?"

I nod again, smaller this time. "Yeah."

He exhales slowly through his nose. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

The answer comes so fast that i brace myself, waiting for him to push.

He doesn’t.

"Okay," he says simply.

I risk a glance at him. "That’s it?"

"That’s it."

Something inside me loosens. Just a fraction.

We lie there in silence for a while. His arm is still around me, warm and steady. I don’t tell him to move it, I don’t lean closer either. We just exist like that.

"I’m sorry," I murmur eventually.

"For what?"

"For last night. For running. For....." I trail off, not sure how to finish.

He shifts, turning more fully toward me. His hand comes up, cups my cheek, thumb warm against my skin. I stiffen automatically, then force myself to stay still.

"Don’t apologize," he says. "You didn’t do anything wrong."

I let out a shaky breath. "It didn’t look that way."

"I don’t care what it looked like," he replies. "I care about what it was."

I don’t answer because I don’t know how.

After a moment, he drops his hand, gives me space again. "Get some more sleep," he says. "You need it."

"Aren’t you going to work?"

"I will In a bit."

I hesitate. "You don’t have to stay."

"I know."

He doesn’t move anyway.

I turn onto my side, facing away from him this time, but his arm stays around me. I’m too tired to fight it, too tired to think.

When I wake up for the second time today I wake to an empty bed.

I reach for my phone on the nightstand and squint at the screen.

What the hell?. Its late, way llater than I thought it would be. I slept straight through the afternoon, into evening. My stomach sinks a little when I realize how long I’ve been out. My body feels heavy and sluggish, like I’ve been drugged.

I sit up slowly, waiting for the dizziness to hit. It does, but not hard enough to knock me back down like how it did months ago. I wait it out, breathing through it, then swing my legs over the side of the bed.

I feel gross I didn’t shower this morning. I can smell myself, feel the dried sweat on my skin and the stiffness in my hair. That alone is motivation enough.

I grab a robe off the chair and head for the bathroom.

The shower helps so I stand under the spray longer than I should, letting the water run down my back, my arms, my legs. I wash my hair twice, scrubbing harder than necessary, like I can rinse yesterday off me if I try hard enough.

By the time I turn the water off, my fingers are wrinkled and my head feels lighter.

I squeeze the excess water out of my hair and step onto the bath mat.

That’s when I realize my mistake.

The towels.

I left the clean ones on the bed earlier and the hamper was emptied. I stand there dripping for a second, annoyed at myself, then decide it’s faster to just grab one.

I push the bathroom door open and walk toward the dressing room, water dripping onto the floor behind me.

I’m halfway across the room when the bed room door opens.

I look up startled only to see Zane.

He’s stepping in from the hallway, jacket already off with his sleeves rolled up. He stops short when he sees me.

So do I.

For a split second, neither of us says anything.

His eyes drop..... slowly running his eyes over my body.

I feel the heat crawl up my neck.

"I....sorry," I say quickly, already moving. "I left the towels on the bed."

I try to hurry past him, bare feet slipping slightly on the floor.

He doesn’t move out of the way right away.

"Fuc!." he practically groans.