Worst Day of the Year

Dane

Avoiding her all these weeks had been exhausting. He'd questioned himself at every turn. But every chance he got to let a conversation develop, or to catch her alone, he found himself pulling away. He couldn't stop seeing that moment at his apartment when he'd leaned in, started to think…

But she'd been just like every other woman in his life: Afraid.

Could he blame her? When it came down to it, he knew there was a darkness in him. He'd long thought that even if women couldn't have said what it was, there was some kind of intuition in them that made them wary. They could feel that something was wrong with him.

He'd thought maybe she was different—so willing to get up in his face and argue. But ever since that day…

It had hurt so much to see her afraid, flinching back from him, he'd been too afraid to put her in a situation where she'd have to do it again. And he couldn't afford to lose her as a part of the business. So he'd kept her at arms length. Always making sure others were around when they spoke, or that they were on the phone. Avoiding meetings where she might pull him aside. He'd even pretended to answer his cellphone when he'd seen her coming, and no one else was around.

He was pathetic.

She'd figured it out by now—had even challenged him that time in the hall. But then Chris had interrupted.

Then he'd caught her staring at him in the conference room last week and for a moment it had felt like maybe…maybe they could get past it. He'd been sure he'd seen hunger in her eyes. A desire to be close to him. He'd made himself hold her gaze, take the risk, give her a chance. He hadn't turned away, had even had time to think about how, if she came in, he might find an excuse to get her alone in his office.

Then she'd turned away.

She could have come in. Could have spoken to him. And she didn't.

He'd known she was right. It was the right thing to do. Keep things professional. Separate. Unemotional.

But damn…

So he hadn't let himself consider any other options. He'd kept her at a distance, continued to book meetings with other people, and worked from home a lot more. The problem was, it was getting harder and harder. Some of the things they were finding terrified him—and no one else knew. He needed to discuss it with her, he knew. They needed to put their heads together—he needed to know everything she knew. Because it might be the time when he needed to tell her what he feared was coming.

But how to bridge the gap now?

Dane rolled over in bed, groaning when he saw that it was after one. He hadn't slept a wink, and wasn't looking like he would.

He sat up and threw his legs over the side of the huge bed—he needed the largest size to fit his long frame—but just sat there, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

There were too many things, and no one could help.

It was his birthday the next day—today, he supposed—and he had no plans. He'd tried to talk Chris into one of their rare drinking nights. But Chris was working—and frankly, seemed a little uncomfortable that Dane had asked. No one at work wanted to socialize with him. And it was coming home to him that he didn't have…friends. He had acquaintances. Business partners. Networks.

He didn't have people.

How many years had it been since his birthday had fallen on a Sunday? He couldn't even remember. Normally he got to throw himself into work that day, and keep everyone else busy too. He'd buy some goodies for the staff as an excuse to get all the hoopla out of the way (he'd learned people didn't like to ignore birthdays the way he wished he could.) Then he'd work so hard the day passed quickly and he'd fall into bed exhausted, with no time or energy to think about the day or what it meant.

He ran a hand through his hair and caught sight of the picture on his bedside table. She was laughing, her brown hair tossed back, mouth wide.

She had been beautiful, and funny, and his favorite person. And she was dead. And it was his fault.

Dane shook his head. What the hell was he going to do with himself today? The one day of the week he couldn't bank on work—and the one day of the week most of the staff took off. Even if he did go into the office it would be quiet and dark and more depressing than being at home. But he had to find a way to escape his thoughts. If he didn't, they were going to send him insane.

He blew out a breath and forced himself to think. He would sleep. He'd take a sleeping pill if he needed to, just to make more of the hours pass. And when he did wake up, he'd work out. He could go to the store. He'd use a driver, but no harm in doing his own shopping this one time. He'd take his time selecting whatever the best ingredients were to make himself an awesome meal tonight. He didn't need think about why he was cooking something special. He could just enjoy the process. Then, until it was time to cook he would dig into those reports on their discussions of expansion into Asia.

Yes, those numbers would distract him nicely. And it wouldn't be Sunday over there, it would be Monday. He could even make phone calls!

Feeling much better, Dane laid back down and pulled the blankets over. If he wasn't asleep in half an hour he'd take one of those pills in the bathroom, then he'd start his day. It would be fine. He was sure of it.

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