“No,” I say before my brain catches up. “It’s only the size of a love seat. No, really. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“I’m uncomfortable anywhere that isn’t my cabin,” he says honestly.
“Then we’ll just …” I gesture between us “… stay on our sides.”
Ethan nods. We climb into the bed like two people trying to defuse a bomb. He lies stiffly on his back, one arm behind his head, staring at the ceiling.
I turn off the bedside lamp, plunging us into shadows lit only by the fire’s glow. Minutes pass in silence. Then, he sighs low and annoyed.
“These pillows are ridiculous. They’re like bags of marshmallows.”
I laugh quietly into the blankets. “I like them.”
“Of course you do.”
More silence for a minute or two followed by, “Harper?”
“Yes?”
“Did you mean what you said earlier?”
I swallow. “About what?”
“That you don’t want to make this difficult.”
I roll onto my side — my side — and stare at the faint outline of him in the firelight.
“I meant it,” I whisper. “I didn’t intend for any of this to happen. But … I want to do my part.”
“It’s not you that’s the problem.”
“Then what is?”
He hesitates. Pain flickers through his voice. “Being out of my space. Out of my routine. In …” He gestures at the room. “… this.”
I understand more than he knows.
“I feel out of place too.”
He turns his head toward me.
Our eyes meet in the half-dark. It feels like a warm knowing. But it also feels deeply dangerous in this one bed together.
He finally looks back at the ceiling and says low and rough, “Sleep, Harper.”
My heart thuds once — hard.
“Goodnight, Ethan.”
I close my eyes. Five minutes later, his arm shifts just slightly like he drifted. He definitely drifts. And … I’m not sure I mind.
Chapter 10
Ethan
The first thing I’m aware of in the morning is warmth. Soft curving warmth on me. I pry open one eye. Harper Fox is tucked against my side, her head on my arm, her hand resting lightly on my chest like she drifted there in her sleep without a single ounce of hesitation. My heart doesn’t just beat — it lunges.
She’s soft and warm, pressed up against me like she belongs there. I have no idea what to do with that thought. I didn’t move toward her. I swear I didn’t. But she … she definitely drifted.
