OFF LIMIT

Chapter 5

Sienna didn't leave after brunch. She never really did.

By early evening, she'd taken over my closet like she owned it, which, to be fair, she basically did, pulling things off hangers with the particular determination of a woman on a mission.

"We're going out," she announced, holding up a mini skirt I was fairly sure I'd bought on a reckless whim and never actually worn. "Dinner first, then dancing. You've been home a week and you've barely left the house except to buy smut."

"I have not..."

"Isabella."

She was already unzipping the black blouse from its hanger, the one with the neckline I distinctly remembered being talked into buying against my better judgment.

"You are going to put this on, and these heels, and we are going to have an actual night for once."

I lost the argument before I'd really started it.

I usually did, with her.

Dinner was sushi at a place near the club, the two of us tucked into a corner booth, and for a while, I forgot about everything else. It felt good to be out with her. I hadn’t realized how much I needed a night like this.

Sienna talked about Marcus, unguarded and glowing, and I let myself get swept up in her happiness instead of my own tangled mess of feelings for once.

By the time we made it to the club, I'd almost forgotten to be nervous about the outfit.

Almost.

The black skirt was far shorter than anything I usually wore, and paired with the blouse and heels, it made me feel like I was playing a version of myself I hadn't quite figured out how to inhabit yet.

The heels made my legs look longer than they had any right to, and I caught more than a few glances on the way to the bar that made me feel simultaneously powerful and deeply uncomfortable.

We ordered drinks.

A man approached almost immediately, asking Sienna to dance, and she waved him off without missing a beat.

"I have a man, thank you."

"You could've at least let him down easier," I said, laughing.

"I was being efficient."

She grinned, completely unrepentant, and turned the conversation back to me, to my complete lack of a love life, a subject I would have happily avoided for the rest of the night.

"There has to be someone," she pressed. "Anyone. Anyone at all in five years."

"There were people."

I swirled my drink, avoiding her eyes.

"None of them stuck."

That was true, as far as it went.

Boys in school had always been a different kind of problem. Most of them were painfully awkward, all badly timed jokes, overconfidence, and the desperate need to impress everyone within a ten-foot radius. I could never understand what my friends saw in them. They'd get excited over a boy's smile or the way he pushed his hair back, and I'd look at him and wonder if I was supposed to be seeing something they were.

University hadn't been much better. The men were more confident, more polished, and considerably better at pretending they had themselves figured out, but I still rarely felt that spark everyone seemed to talk about. Some were attractive enough on paper, others charming enough in conversation, but I could never quite make myself want them.

I never told her the real reason none of it stuck.

That I measured every single one of them against a man I had no business measuring anyone against.

And every single time, he won without even trying.

I didn't get the chance to dwell on it, because a man appeared at our table not long after.

Late twenties. Easy smile. Confident without being arrogant.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

I opened my mouth to decline.

Sienna answered before I could.

"Yeah, sure."

I shot her a look.

She shot me back an entirely unbothered one, already gesturing for the bartender.

His name was Leo.

He was pleasant enough. Easy to talk to. The kind of effortlessly charming that probably worked on most women without much trouble.

Sienna practically pushed us toward the dance floor a few songs later, mouthing have fun over his shoulder with an expression that promised we'd be discussing this later.

Leo's hands settled at my waist as we moved with the music.

He was attractive.

I knew that.

Objectively, undeniably attractive.

His smile was easy. His body was warm beneath my hands. He knew how to move, how to pull me a little closer without seeming to try too hard. He said something against my ear that made me laugh, and for a few seconds, I let myself pretend this was what I wanted.

A handsome stranger.

A crowded dance floor.

A night uncomplicated enough to forget myself in.

I tried.

God, I tried.

But my mind betrayed me almost immediately.

Because Leo's hands were warm, but they weren't Theo's.

And somehow, that mattered.

Theo had never touched me like this. Never held my waist on a dance floor, never pulled me against him while music throbbed around us.

But I'd spent enough years standing near him, passing him things, brushing shoulders in narrow hallways, sitting beside him at family dinners to know the difference between a touch that meant nothing and one that could ruin me.

I imagined Theo's hand at my waist and hated myself for it.

It wouldn't be careless.

That was the problem.

Theo was never careless.

Even when he was teasing me, there was something measured about him. Something deliberate. As though he noticed everything and gave away almost nothing.

Leo touched me like he wanted to impress me.

Theo, I thought, would touch me like he already knew exactly what he did to me.

The thought sent a shiver through me.

I stepped closer to Leo anyway.

It didn't help.

His voice reached my ear, but I barely heard the words. They dissolved beneath another imagined sound, the low, familiar cadence of Theo's voice saying my name.

Leo smelled like expensive cologne and something citrusy.

Theo smelled like cedar, clean cotton, and whatever aftershave he wore that I'd never consciously noticed until now.

Leo's fingers tightened slightly against my waist.

I closed my eyes.

Wrong.

Everything about this was wrong.

Because I wasn't dancing with Leo anymore.

Not really.

I was dancing with a memory I'd spent years pretending wasn't there.

And the worst part was that the memory had never needed to touch me to become the only man I could feel.

Somewhere in the middle of the song, I realized I couldn't do this anymore.

"I need the bathroom," I told Leo, and didn't wait for a response.

I found Sienna at the bar instead.

"Can we go?"

She took one look at my face and didn't ask questions.

"Yeah. Let's go."

"We can't go to yours," I said as we climbed into the car. "We'd disturb your dad."

"He's not even home."

She pulled out of the lot, checking her mirror.

"He's at some friend's engagement party, pretty far out. He's staying overnight."

Staying overnight.

My stomach did something unpleasant at that.

An ugly little spiral of thoughts I had absolutely no right to, wondering whether he'd be there alone, whether there'd be women at a party like that, whether any of them would catch his attention the way none of them ever seemed to catch mine.

I didn't say any of that.

I just nodded and let her drive us back to her place instead.

I don't fully remember deciding to open the second bottle of wine.

I remember the first glass.

Then the second.

Then, apparently, my ability to count.

By the time the bottle was empty, I was sitting on Sienna's living room floor with my head against her shoulder, crying about nothing and everything at once.

"I don't want to lose you," I told her.

"You've said that six times."

"I mean it every time."

"I know."

"You're my best friend."

"I know."

"Like a sister."

"I know."

"I love you."

"I know that too."

I sniffed.

"You sound annoyed."

"I'm not annoyed."

"You sound annoyed."

Sienna looked down at me.

"Bella, you threw up on my carpet twenty minutes ago."

I blinked.

"I did?"

"Yes."

I looked around the room suspiciously.

"Was it expensive?"

"It's beige."

"So... no?"

She burst out laughing.

I started laughing too, although I had absolutely no idea what was funny anymore.

Then my eyes filled again.

"I really love you."

"I really love you too."

"I don't want to lose you."

Sienna sighed softly and pulled me closer.

"You won't lose me."

"I don't want to."

"I know."

She brushed my hair away from my face.

"You're drunk, Bella. You're saying all sorts of things tonight."

"I mean it."

"I know you do."

She smiled and gently took the wine glass from my hand.

"Okay. That's enough."

"No."

"Yes."

"I am an adult."

"An adult who is currently arguing with a throw pillow."

I looked down at the pillow beside me.

"I thought it was you."

"That is somehow worse."

I dissolved into helpless laughter.

A few minutes later, I threw up on her.

Sienna froze for approximately two seconds before sighing.

"Oh, Bella."

There was no anger in her voice. Only tired affection and the resigned patience of someone who had known me long enough to know this was hardly the worst thing we'd survived together.

She pulled my hair back and rubbed my back until I was finished.

"You are never drinking this much again."

"I don't feel good."

"I know."

"I think I'm dying."

"You're not dying."

"Are you sure?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

I groaned.

She laughed softly and helped me onto the couch.

"Stay here. I'm going to shower, and then I'll get you some water."

I nodded, already sinking into the cushions.

I have no memory of the front door opening.

Theo found her exactly like that.

Sprawled across the couch, one heel missing, mascara blurred beneath her eyes, the hem of her impossibly short skirt riding higher than it had any business being.

He stopped in the doorway.

His eyes immediately went to the skirt.

For one brief second, surprise crossed his face.

Then something harder replaced it.

Protectiveness.

He had known Isabella since she was a child. He had watched her grow up, watched her go from the little girl who used to follow Sienna everywhere to the young woman standing in front of him now.

And seeing her dressed like this, alone, drunk and barely aware of where she was, triggered something deeply instinctive in him.

Not anger at her.

Never that.

Concern.

The kind that came from years of caring about someone and still, somewhere in his mind, seeing the child they had once been.

"Isabella?"

Her head turned sluggishly at the sound of his voice.

For a moment, she simply stared at him.

Then recognition, or something close enough to it, appeared across her face.

She smiled.

It was an utterly unguarded thing.

Before Theo could say another word, she lunged for him.

Her arms locked around his middle, her cheek pressing against his chest.

"I love you so much, Sienna," she mumbled into his shirt.

Theo went completely still.

"I don't want to lose you."

Her voice cracked around the words.

"You're my best friend. Ever. In the whole world."

"Isabella."

She only tightened her arms around him.

"It's Theo."

Apparently, the distinction meant very little to her.

She made a soft, unhappy noise and buried her face more firmly against him.

Theo closed his eyes for a moment.

He wasn't sure whether to laugh, worry, or simply accept that this was going to be one of those nights.

He carefully loosened her arms.

"Come on. Let's get you some water."

She protested weakly, but he managed to get a glass into her hands and waited until she drank enough to satisfy him.

A few minutes later, Sienna came hurrying down the stairs.

She was dressed now, jeans and a fitted top replacing the robe, one hand pushing her damp hair behind her shoulder while the other searched for her keys.

"Thank God you're back."

Theo looked up.

Relief crossed her face.

"I need you to take care of her. A friend called. There's been some trouble, and I need to go."

Theo frowned.

"Now?"

"I know. I'm sorry. I wouldn't leave if I didn't have to."

He glanced at Isabella, who was staring blankly at the glass in her hands.

"Go."

Sienna hesitated.

"You sure?"

"I've got her."

Sienna gave him a grateful smile.

"Thank you."

She hurried toward the door, then paused.

"Oh, and Dad?"

He looked at her.

"If she starts telling you that she's fine, she's lying."

"I figured."

"And don't let her drink anything except water."

"Got it."

"She also gets dramatic when she's drunk."

From the couch came a muffled protest.

"I heard that."

Sienna smiled.

"Good."

Then she was gone.

The front door clicked shut.

Silence settled over the house.

Theo looked back at Isabella.

She was still staring at her glass as though she had never seen water before.

"Bathroom," she announced suddenly.

"Good idea."

"I can walk."

"I know."

"I can."

"I believe you."

She took one determined step.

Then nearly walked directly into the wall.

Theo caught her by the elbow.

"Right," he murmured. "Clearly I've underestimated you."

She frowned at him as though deeply offended.

He guided her upstairs.

In the bathroom, he sat her carefully on the edge of the tub and found makeup remover beneath the sink.

He worked patiently, wiping away the dark smudges beneath her eyes and cleaning the mascara from her cheeks.

She complained intermittently about being perfectly capable of doing it herself.

"You're very bossy," she informed him.

"I've been told."

"By me?"

"Mostly."

She considered this.

"Sounds like something I'd say."

"It does."

He rinsed her face with a washcloth and looked at her.

"You need a shower."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Isabella."

She narrowed her eyes.

He waited.

Eventually, she sighed dramatically.

"Fine."

Theo stepped outside the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

A minute later, her voice floated through it.

"Theo?"

"Yes?"

"I've decided I'm not wearing clothes."

He stared at the ceiling.

"That's probably not a good idea."

"I mean it."

"I know."

"I could just walk out."

"You could."

"I might."

Theo rubbed a hand over his face.

"Please don't make this more difficult than it needs to be. Just put on your pajamas, Bella. I'll wait outside."

There was a pause.

"You always tell me what to do."

"Someone has to."

"Bossy."

"So you've said."

He remained outside the door until he heard the shower stop.

When Isabella finally emerged, she was wearing one of her own old pajama sets.

She had left several pieces of clothing at Sienna's house years ago because she had practically grown up there. Sleepovers had become weekends, weekends had become holidays, and eventually having a few clothes tucked away in a drawer had simply become normal.

Theo glanced at her.

"Much better."

She ignored him.

Or perhaps she simply didn't hear him.

He gently guided her toward the guest room, the room that had practically become hers over the years.

Isabella had slept there so many times that it had stopped feeling like a guest room whenever she was around.

Theo pulled back the covers.

She climbed into bed with all the grace of someone who had recently lost a fight with gravity.

He pulled the blanket over her and reached for the lamp.

"Get some sleep."

His fingers had barely touched the switch when her hand moved.

She caught his wrist.

Her grip was weak, but strangely insistent.

Theo looked down at her.

Isabella stared up at him through heavy eyelids.

For a moment, she seemed to be somewhere else entirely.

Then her lips parted.

"Theo?"

"Yeah?"

Her eyes filled slightly.

"I'm so lonely."

The words stopped him.

His expression changed.

"Why are you lonely, Bella?"

She looked away.

"Do you miss your dad?"

A small nod.

"Yeah."

Her voice was barely audible.

"Also..."

She swallowed.

"I want to be loved."

Theo stared at her.

Something about the simplicity of the confession unsettled him more than any drunken declaration could have.

"You are loved."

She gave a small, humorless scoff.

"Not like that."

Theo's brow furrowed.

"Bella..."

"You won't understand, Theo."

There was no accusation in her voice.

Just exhaustion.

The kind that came from wanting something she didn't know how to ask for.

Theo sat silently beside the bed for a moment.

"Whatever it is, you don't have to deal with it alone. We're all here for you."

She looked at him.

Then her eyes drifted shut.

Her fingers loosened around his wrist.

Within moments, she had drifted into sleep.

Theo remained beside the bed.

He watched her breathing settle, watched the tension slowly leave her face.

She was safe.

That was what mattered.

At least, that was what he told himself.

But her words stayed with him.

I'm so lonely.

I want to be loved.

Theo had spent years thinking of Isabella as Sienna's best friend, almost like another daughter who had somehow become part of the family. He had always felt protective of her. It was instinctive, familiar, uncomplicated.

Or at least, it was supposed to be.

Tonight, for the first time, he found himself wondering what had been hiding behind her smiles all this time.

And what, exactly, she had been trying so desperately to tell him before sleep took her.