the kitchen to rummage through the bags of food our parents brought to stock the cabin, I followed right behind her.
We ate in silence, and then wound up back in the living room. I put a couple of logs in the fireplace and as it started to glow in the room, I was left to ponder what the fuck I was supposed to do next. I knew that Fiona used to play cards with her dad when she came out here as a kid and I wished I had the foresight to bring a deck with me or at least look around for one before I chained us together.
Another opportunity lost.
The more we sat doing nothing, the more silence I was forced to endure, the more I was stuck with nothing but my own guilty thoughts… the more I wanted to drop to my knees and outright beg her for forgiveness.
But I stopped myself. I needed to make damn sure she was ready to listen to me before I said a word. The same tells like avoiding eye contact warned me that she was still really pissed about the shackles. I was hoping she would eventually calm down just enough to give me a chance to explain.
Until then, I was just going to have to wait. But I wasn’t going to give up, no matter how long she dragged this out. One way or another, I was determined to get a word in this weekend and have her actually hear it.
I managed to keep a leash on all the sarcastic things I wanted to say—things I would have joked around with her about had we still been on good terms—right up until the sun went down and she finally turned to look at me.
“Did you even think about how we’re supposed to sleep like this?” she asked coldly, raising her hand and shaking the chain to illustrate her point.
It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but at least she was speaking. It was a start.
“I did, actually.”
There was a long pause and I could practically feel the disdain rolling off her in waves.
“ Well? ” she asked impatiently, tilting her head to the side as she waited for an answer.
I grinned and watched as the color drained from her face, already knowing exactly what I was going to say and still dreading to hear the words.
“We’re going to share a bed.”
Chapter Twelve
Fiona
“ Y ou have got to be kidding,” I said with a scoff as I shook my head. “No. No. This whole thing is ridiculous enough already. I am not sharing a bed with you.”
Jonathan just shrugged. “Why the hell not? It’s not like we haven’t done it before.”
“That was before .”
“Before I fucked everything up?”
Was that supposed to be some kind of apology? Him acknowledging that he fucked up? Hearing him admit to screwing up was enough to make the ache in my chest ease just a tad, but it was hardly enough for me to even consider forgiving him. I stepped a little closer, waiting for him to elaborate.
But he said nothing. He just pursed his lips together as if he had already said more than he intended and looked away.
I couldn’t say I was surprised. After all, this was Jonathan . He never apologized.
“So how am I supposed to change into my pajamas with this thing on my wrist?”
His eyes blatantly travelled down to my top and lingered there, a blush rising to my cheeks from the attention. His voice was thick when he spoke, sending a shiver up my spine.
“Well… I could tear that off for you.”
I growled my distaste. “That’s not funny.”
“Wasn’t trying to be.”
Our eyes met and I froze, unsure of where to go from here. But Jonathan was already standing up and stalking towards the bedroom— my bedroom—and the yanking of the chain left me little choice but to follow.
When I came into the room, he was already rummaging through my bag.
“ Hey! ” I cried out, rushing over to smack his hand. “Don’t go through my stuff!”
He smirked. “I was just trying to be helpful.”
“Bullshit,” I hissed, yanking the bag away from him. “You’re being nosy.”
The smirk remained and he shrugged. “Hey, it’s not like I went through your phone or anything. Could have, but