Chapter 340
[ 481 words ]
Chapter 340:
“Are you serious right now?” she shot back, her voice rising. “You’re trying to shift the blame for your own violent behavior onto me?” She sat up, clutching the duvet to her chest like a shield. “Why are you so obsessed with my motives instead of looking at your own actions?”
“My actions were wrong,” he admitted, the words costing him. “But they were driven by a need for you I can’t control.” He stood up, taking a step toward the bed. “It’s your fault, for being so intoxicating that I lose my self-control.”
The argument was a classic piece of emotional manipulation, and she saw right through it. It only strengthened her resolve, but a new surge of doubt washed over her. Was his passion real, or was it just a performance? A desperate attempt to recreate something he’d had with Elena?
She pointed a trembling finger toward the couch. Her voice was ice, leaving no room for negotiation. It was an order, not a request.
“Sleep. On. The. Couch.”
Jarrod stared at her, a muscle ticking in his jaw. He recognized an impasse. Pushing her further now would only shatter what little was left of their connection. With a heavy sigh of frustration, he turned, grabbed a pillow from the bed, and walked over to the small, uncomfortable-looking couch.
𝗥𝗈𝗺a𝗻𝖼e 𝗇𝗈𝘃e𝗅ѕ 𝘰𝗇 𝗴а𝘭𝗇𝘰𝗏𝘦𝗹s.с𝗼𝗆
It was a piece of furniture clearly not designed for a man his size. He lay down, his long legs dangling awkwardly over the armrest. He stared at the ceiling in grim acceptance, the commander exiled in his own quarters.
Caroline woke to the pale morning light filtering through the blinds. Her head still ached with a dull, persistent throb. The first thing she saw was Jarrod’s massive frame contorted on the tiny couch.
He was still asleep, one arm thrown over his eyes to block the light. His face, usually a mask of command and control, was relaxed, looking more vulnerable than she had ever seen him. A flicker of something other than anger, pity, maybe, stirred in her chest. She quickly suppressed it, reminding herself of the fear and violation she’d felt just hours before.
Still, a small part of her was surprised. He had actually respected her boundary. He hadn’t tried to get into bed with her during the night.
That fragile truce held for the next few days. They coexisted in the small space with a polite, tense distance. Jarrod brought her meals from the mess hall, simple trays of food she picked at. He made sure she took the pain medication Dr. Reed had prescribed for her head, his voice a low rumble when he reminded her. But he made no further physical advances. He slept on the couch every night without complaint.
Caroline’s physical health improved. The bump on her head subsided, and the headaches faded. But her heart remained guarded. The silence about Elena was a festering wound between them.
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