Behind Closed Doors (8 page)

Once they arrived at the hotel, he still appeared agitated, but at least he wasn’t using that angry voice that made her want to cower.

She didn’t know what to think. The safety she’d begun to feel around him had quickly changed back to fear.

Her mind was blank. She couldn’t think. So instead, she just let him lead her to wherever he was going. She remembered he’d booked them separate rooms, so she was hoping he’d just drop her off and leave. She’d figure everything out tomorrow. Maybe he’d be back to the Chris she was starting to like by then.

When they came to the room however, he told her to get inside and then followed her in. Her panic hit a new high as he carelessly threw their belongings by the door and walked toward her.

“Now,” he said through clenched teeth, “you are going to tell me what the hell is going on, and you are going to tell me now.”

“I—” Her voice shook as she back herself up against the wall.

“Now, Elizabeth.”

Her eyes filled with tears as she sank to the floor and curled herself into a ball. “I can’t,” she cried.

For a long moment, he was silent, and all she could hear was their breathing. Her mind raced with what he would do next. She didn’t think he would hurt her though. Over the last month, she’d seen how Chris dealt with stress, and it wasn’t by using his fists.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was softer, calmer. “Why not?”

“Because . . . because you’ll hate me,” she admitted. For some reason, his good opinion of her mattered. He was her boss, sure, but he and Jan were the only two people she’d gotten to know on any level since moving. She didn’t know what she’d do if he could no longer bear to even look at her. Then there was movement, and she felt him on the floor beside her.

“I will not hate you, I promise. Please tell me.”

She hesitated. “Why do you want to know?”

He sighed. “You’ve been acting strange all day, and then just as we were getting ready to leave, something obviously happened with Bryan’s assistant. I’m sorry if I scared you, but I don’t like being told everything is fine when it isn’t. I don’t like being lied to. Tell me what’s wrong and maybe I can help.”

She looked up, trying to gauge whether or not to just tell him. It was then she realized that she didn’t care any longer. What difference would it make? If he really wanted to know, all he had to do was ask Karen or do a little research.

Her gaze drifted back down to the floor. “I killed my husband,” she whispered.

“What!”

Elizabeth recoiled, putting distance between them.

“I’m sorry,” he said, remorseful. “What happened?”

Elizabeth stared at him for a long time, not speaking. She didn’t know which Chris to believe. One was angry and scary. The other was kind and not scary at all.

“Why do you look at me like that?” he said.

“Like . . . like what?”

“Like I’m going to hit you or something?”

“You’re not?”

“Of course not,” he said, shocked. “Why would you . . .” His voice trailed off, and he seemed to realize something. “Someone hit you.” It was a statement, but she nodded anyway. “And you thought . . . Elizabeth, I’m so sorry. I would never hit a woman. I promise you that.”

Chris seemed so sincere that she relaxed a little, getting closer.

Voices in the hall and a door closing nearby were the only sounds to permeate the silence for a long time.

“Do you still want to know?”

“Yes.”

She looked up at him, tears once again welling in her eyes. His hand twitched at his side before finally coming to rest on top of hers comfortingly. She took a deep breath.

Chris sat patiently as she explained how her husband had been a prominent lawyer here in Columbus, a junior partner by the age of twenty-seven. “Jared changed after my parents died. He’d always been controlling, but after it was . . . more.”

Her crying had stopped, but she was still trembling. Chris lifted her chin, making her look at him for his next question. “He was the one that hurt you?”

She nodded, and he felt the need to hit something, preferably her husband’s face. Too bad he was already dead.

“How long?” he demanded, trying not to raise his voice. “How long did he hurt you before you fought back?”

“Three years.”

Chris balled his hands into fists and closed his eyes, willing himself to stay still. He didn’t want to frighten her. Once he got himself back under control, he asked, “What made you decide to fight back?”

She was quiet for a long time, and he was starting to think she wasn’t going to answer. Then she said, “I know it sounds silly, but I found out he was seeing someone else.”

“He was cheating on you?”

She nodded. “I don’t know why, but that was just the last straw. I’d given up everything for him and he betrayed me, so I left.” She grew quiet and then said, “He came after me.”

Chris was proud of her for getting the courage to leave even if it had taken three years, but he wished for her sake the ending had been different. She was obviously disturbed by the fact that she’d killed her husband, even if it had probably been in self-defense.

They fell into silence; the only sounds in the room came from their breathing and the soft hum of electronics. It charged the air around them.

She turned her face, angling it into the crook of his neck. It was innocent, but the feel of her breath, her skin, sent shivers rippling through him. Even in her distress, he felt his body calling out for what it wanted.
Her.

Chris was getting good at denial, but there was only so much even he could take. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up and ready for bed. My room is just next door if you need me.”

She sat up and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“No. Don’t apologize.”

She nodded, and stood. Halfway to the bathroom, she paused. “Would you mind staying? I mean, in my room. I just . . . I don’t want to be alone.”

Her back was still toward him, so he couldn’t see her face, but he knew to admit something like that to him or anyone had to be difficult for her. This beautiful woman had been through so much. And whether he was willing to admit it to himself or not, he would do anything for her. “Sure. I’ll stay if that’s what you want.”

Seconds later, the bathroom door closed and he was alone.

The next morning, Chris awoke to the bathroom door slamming firmly shut.

He sat up and ran a hand over his face. After Elizabeth had drifted off last night, he’d just sat and watched her sleep while thousands of thoughts flooded his mind from her revelations.

With the morning light, he was still trying to make sense of everything. She obviously had a lot of baggage from her past to deal with, and for some reason he felt a compulsion to comfort and protect her. He didn’t
want
to be the one to protect her. That sounded too much like something a boyfriend would do, and that wasn’t what he wanted. She may not be like Carol, but he just couldn’t go there with her. She was his employee. It bothered him that
that
was barely even a consideration. What was this woman doing to him?

Chris couldn’t forget the look on her face when she’d told him that he would hate her. It made him wonder what type of people she’d dealt with before moving to Springfield. Anyone who knew her would surely know that she was not a violent person, but he was guessing that wasn’t the case.

When he heard the shower shut off, he knew it was time to get up and moving. Sitting there reliving last night was not doing him, or her, any good.

He grabbed the small duffle bag he’d brought with him and pulled out his clothes. Thankfully, he didn’t have any meetings scheduled once they got back, so he could be a little more casual. Though a meeting might have been a welcomed diversion.

When she exited the bathroom, Chris was already fully dressed and ready to leave. She quickly gathered her things, put them in her bag, and let him know she was ready. The drive back to Springfield was quiet, too quiet, a charged silence filling the air.

Elizabeth’s mind was racing. She knew better than most how a minute, an hour, or a day could completely change everything. During the twenty-four hours she’d been in Columbus, she’d ran into an old friend, was confronted about her past, and had to tell her boss and neighbor that she’d killed the man she’d been married to for five years.

As they put more and more distance between themselves and Columbus, she couldn’t help but wonder what he thought of her now. What would he do with what she’d told him?

As they passed the one-mile marker for their exit to Springfield, she still hadn’t come to any decisions where Chris was concerned. She only prayed that maybe he’d just pretend as if it had never happened.

Chris couldn’t seem to get Elizabeth or her past off his mind. Every morning he’d wake up with the memory of how she felt beneath his hand. He’d barely touched her, and yet it was burned into his brain.

As quickly as he was able, he’d push those thoughts away. What he couldn’t do was let what she’d shared with him go. In fact, every night since their return he searched the Internet for any mention of the incident.

Why, he had no idea. He didn’t want to care about her life, past or present.

He avoided her as much as possible. Occasionally, he’d still go out to a worksite and get his hands dirty. They were a few days behind on the Percell job. His guys had started putting up the drywall the day before, so it was the perfect excuse. Plus, he needed something physical to do, but with all the work of running the company, it didn’t happen very often. So any excuse to get out of the office was good. That was how Terry found him at the worksite on Friday, covered in drywall dust and joint compound. “Chris,” he said.

He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow and nodded hello to Terry before returning to what he was doing. Terry grabbed a dust mask from the supplies and settled in beside Chris.