Mrs. Lowery, in that unfortunate way that women had, intuitively picked up on the vibes of a sister in need of backup. She put down the basket.
“Rachel, don’t do this.” Jon glanced between them, trying to look genial and concerned, rather than simply hiking her over her shoulder and taking her the rest of the way down the hall, Mrs. Lowery be damned. Rachel quivered, seeing it in him, and though Mrs. Lowery would interpret that quiver as the wrong kind of fear, Jon knew differently. Yes, it was fear, but fear of herself, not of him. Rachel had far more experience shutting people out than letting them in, and she was using that skill now. Her eyes were filled with dull pain that he wanted to soothe, even as he wanted to give her the spanking of her life.
“I need tonight, Jon.” She cleared her throat, her fingers pressing into Mrs. Lowery’s arm. The woman patted her soothingly, eyeing Jon. Not an ounce of fear in her expression, which clearly said, I can start screaming and bring the entire complex out here on your ass, bucko. Any other time he would have been thrilled that Rachel had such a diligent neighbor, but now nosy, busybody and pain-in-the-ass were a few of the choice words coming to mind.
“I’m not…you don’t have to worry about anything, okay? I need to be alone with this. Please respect that.”
He wanted to take her hand, make any kind of contact, but Rachel stepped back, anticipating him. She wrapped her arms against her body, everything about her locked down. Mrs. Lowery shifted slightly, coming in between them. Given how he was feeling, the woman had balls.
He knew when it was necessary to fall back and take a different tactic, retreat and regroup, but damn it, this was not a f*cking business meeting. This was his heart and soul, and she needed him. But she wouldn’t let him help her. He had no choice but to back off, for now. He wasn’t going to leave it like this though.
“I’m walking you to your door,” he said coolly, and firmly sidestepped Mrs. Lowery to take Rachel’s elbow, despite her flinch. Before either woman could say anything, he met the neighbor’s mistrustful gaze. “I will not go into the apartment with her. I know you have your hand on the cellphone in your coat pocket. If I don’t walk right back past you in five minutes, you can call the police.” In the woman’s brown eyes, he saw the root of what she needed to know. He could at least offer her that, with full sincerity. “Rachel will come to no harm from me. She knows that. She’s just upset.”
Mrs. Lowery’s gaze shifted to Rachel, who turned her head, stared at the floor, but didn’t deny what he’d said. The neighbor studied him again. “Make it three minutes, and if I hear so much as a squeak from her, I’ll have my son out here to toss you over the railing and you can take the direct route back to the ground floor.”
Despite the frustration roiling in his gut, Jon had to appreciate her. He wondered if Janet had an older sister Matt didn’t know about. He nodded, put pressure on Rachel’s arm and directed her tense body down the hall until they reached the recessed archway of her door. Taking out her key card, he fitted it into the lock, pushed the door open a crack, then handed it to her. He’d had the key since they’d gone shopping earlier in the day, and he had to shove down the feeling of dreaded finality that came with putting it back in her hand. When their fingers brushed, before she could draw away, he had his hand closed on both of hers.
Knowing Mrs. Lowery was still listening for the tone of the conversation, but wasn’t close enough to detect the content, he lowered his voice to a murmur.
“What are you doing, Rachel?”
“I know you won’t take no for an answer, Jon, and I really, really need you to.” She kept her gaze focused on his chest. Her fingers were cold and tight beneath his, her face pale. His frustration tipped back into fury, but he reined it back viciously, knowing that wouldn’t help. However, as if sensing it, she quivered again, her gaze flicking up quickly, then back down. “At least for tonight. Please.”
Lifting her chin, he held it in a tight grip even when she would have pulled away. “Do you still have the gun?”
The shock that crossed her gaze was the first emotion she’d displayed since their volatile coupling in the car. He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he pushed her up against the door, letting her feel every insistent inch of his rigid body, head to toe. “I won’t leave you like this, Rachel. You can have a dozen Mrs. Lowerys and her sons in this hallway, and they won’t budge me an inch if I don’t think you’ll be safe.”
Her eyes closed, her hands curling against his jacket, cold fingers whispering against his shirtfront. “I didn’t think I could be more humiliated tonight, but I guess I was wrong.”
“Rachel, for God’s sake…”
She shook her head. “I’m going in here, shutting the door, and for the next little bit, I’m going to be by myself. I need that. I truly do. If you have any regard for me at all, you’ll respect that. Please.” Her lips trembled, and now those thick doll’s lashes lifted, swimming hazel eyes locking with his. Her voice was a rasping whisper. “I promise you, on the soul of my son, I will not harm myself. All right?”
He cupped her face and wasn’t surprised that the rawness of his own voice was a close match to hers. “Rachel, don’t shut me out. Don’t close yourself down like this again.”
She gave a small laugh, a half sob. “Let me go, Jon. I don’t have the strength for what you want. Though I really, really appreciate you offering, my visit to Oz is over. Go find the woman who has that strength. For tonight…I’m so tired. Let me go to sleep. I need that peace. The peace of sleeping alone. I need…” Her voice broke. “I need to be numb. Please go.”
The sound of her tears, her broken voice, had footsteps coming swiftly down the hall. Giving him a despairing look, Rachel turned and slid into her apartment, closing the door decisively in his face.
* * * * *
The peace of sleeping alone. He understood what she meant. Inside that peaceful place, there was just enough room for her to fit, without touching the jagged edges of memory that hugged so close to her. If someone shared that space, she’d be forced against those painful and sharp points.
He would have persisted, except for a couple things. Mrs. Lowery had apparently fabricated the story about her son, but she appeared at his back armed with a Pomeranian. Though the armload of yapping dog wouldn’t have deterred him, he knew there was some truth to what Rachel said, that she needed time. She’d promised him she wouldn’t hurt herself, and though he knew an unstable person would say anything to placate their friends and family, she’d met his eyes, and for that one moment at least, he’d seen a quiet calm. It didn’t completely resolve his worries on that score, but he had to live with it, unless he wanted to break down the door.
And while she took the time she felt she needed, damn it all, he’d use that time to think, plan a different strategy. When they were kicked in the balls in a negotiation, they didn’t rush the field driven by pain and anger. They put some ice on it, and thought about how best to win the overall game.
So he went home. Sent Max back to the club to pick up the others, then ran the nature trails on his property twice, an eight-mile trek. He’d followed it up with an intense ninety-minute hot yoga session in his downstairs workshop. He’d kept the air off and only now had opened the windows that overlooked the screened porch. Wearing a loose and faded pair of jeans, he turned in slow circles on the revolving stool at his drafting table, the sweat drying on muscles stretched to their limit.