The Roommate (Roommates, #1)

Watching Cannon suffer today had been agony. Watching him lie on the narrow bed, his body clutching at mine like I was the only thing that could ease the pain, it did something to me.

I’d stroked his hair and murmured encouraging things, but I had no idea if it helped. He wasn’t afraid to make himself vulnerable, wasn’t afraid to admit that he needed me. It was everything. But then an hour later, his pager had gone off and he rushed out to attend to a patient, saying he’d see me at home. He left without even a backward glance.

I couldn’t imagine a job like his. I worked in an office where the worst thing that happened in my day was if the printer ran out of toner. He’d watched a man die today, and worse than that, he felt responsible. He had blood on his hands, literally. I didn’t know what would happen next, didn’t know how you bounced back from something like that. I knew over the course of Cannon’s career, of course he would face death. But your first? Maybe it changed you for good. Maybe he’d never be quite the man he was before. I wasn’t sure, and it scared me.

Checking the clock on the stove again, I wondered what time he’d be home from work. Surely the trauma he’d experienced today allowed him a pass to skip out early. Though if I knew Cannon, he wouldn’t take advantage like that. Hard work and loyalty ran through his veins. After stirring the pot of homemade chicken noodle soup for a final time, I set the ladle on a saucer and poured two short glasses of whiskey.

I had no idea what might happen between us tonight, and part of me was hoping for something deeper than just sex. As great as that was between us, I craved more of a connection. I’d never taken into account how difficult it would be to have a secret relationship and not be able to tell my best friend about it. I needed advice, needed someone to talk to, to vent to, but there was no way Allie could be that person.

The empty, hollow feeling taking up residence in my chest was foreign. I’d lived so many years alone and had been just fine. So to have someone here, and not just someone, but Cannon, who was big and masculine and smart and sexy and tempting? It was slightly maddening.

The front door opened with a click, and Enchilada went running toward it.

“Hey,” Cannon offered when I stepped into the living room. He shrugged off his laptop bag and removed his shoes. His expression was neutral, and anyone else would never guess the traumatic day he’d just lived through.

“Hi.” I handed him one of the glasses of whiskey. “I thought you could use one of these.”

His mouth lifted in a slight smile and he accepted the glass, clinking it against mine. “Thank you. Fuck yes, I could.”

He took a small sip as I watched him, checking for any lingering signs of trauma. His throat moved as he swallowed one small sip, then another. Outwardly, he didn’t look as if he’d fallen apart today. He was as tall and commanding as ever. Gorgeous and perfect.

I took a sip of my own, letting the liquor warm a path in my chest, then said, “I made chicken noodle soup. My grandma’s recipe.”

He smiled warmly at me. “Thank you.”

There was a reason it was called comfort food. I hoped it lived up to the name tonight and put Cannon’s mind at ease.

“It’s just about ready,” I said, leading the way toward the kitchen.

“I’m going to take a shower first. Is that okay?”Property © 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.

“Of course. I’ll just heat up a loaf of bread in the oven. Take your time.”

I knew I shouldn’t have turned and watched Cannon’s tight ass flex as he moved down the hall, but damn, it was becoming increasingly difficult to live with a man I was so attracted to.

After he showered, we sat down at the table and ate. When I asked Cannon if he wanted to talk about today, he shook his head. So I bored him with stories of my work, and showed him pictures of Enchilada on my phone. After that, things fell back into our normal, easy rhythm. We did the dishes, watched TV, and then went our separate ways for bed. Despair bloomed in my chest as I crawled into bed alone.

The need to comfort Cannon, to be near him, to make sure he was okay was unbearable. But I wouldn’t go to him, not tonight. Not unless he made it clear that he needed me. The last time I’d crept into his room, he’d given me what I came seeking, the hot sex I craved, but he’d also warned me that we shouldn’t do it again. I wouldn’t be that girl-the kind who had no self-control, no self-worth, someone who would drop her principles at the door and open her legs. No, thank you. I had to be able to live with myself when this was done.

Movement in my doorway momentarily startled me.

“Hey,” Cannon said, stopping in the door frame.

“Is everything okay?” I sat up in bed, studying him in his gray sleep shorts that hung invitingly low on his hips.

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking unsure like I’d never seen him before. “You okay with some company?”

And because I couldn’t say no to one of Cannon’s requests, even if I wanted to, I nodded. It was the first sign that maybe we weren’t yet done, despite what he’d said.

Soon we were spooned together under the blankets.

“Thanks for today, Paige,” he said, his voice low and sleepy.

“Of course.” I didn’t do much other than sneak out of work early to comfort a friend, but I was glad it had helped in some small way.

“It’s crazy, but today opened my eyes to what I want to do, what I’ve always been interested in but didn’t trust myself.”

“What’s that?”

“I want to be a cardiologist. I know it’s competitive; I know it’s going to be tough. I know over the course of my career, I’ll have days like today that will make me wonder why I chose this at all, but something you said today really stuck with me.”

“What did I say?”

“That I’d save many more lives than I would lose.”

“It’s true, you know,” I whispered back.

“I know,” he said, placing a tender kiss against my forehead.

He tugged me close so that I was nuzzled against his bare chest, smelling his intoxicating scent-bodywash and Cannon. He was opening up to me, in more ways than one, and I liked being there for him when he needed me.

Cannon whispered good night and tightened his grip around me once more.

I knew this couldn’t last. Playing pretend with my best friend’s little brother was one thing, but actually having a real relationship with him was quite another. But I also knew that I didn’t want to pretend anymore.