I can be the friend he needs tonight.
Just his friend.
Hopping off the bed, I walk over to the basket of blankets in the corner and grab a super-soft one that feels brand-new.
I flick the light off and ask him, “Do you need anything? Water? Ice?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve got water, and there’s an ice pack on it now. I’ll just toss it on the nightstand before I pass out.”
Linda and Bob talk on the TV, thankfully filling in the silence as I walk back over to the bed and slide on top of the comforter, fluffing and draping the new blanket over my legs.
My phone is still over fifty percent charge, so I set a couple of alarms and set it on the nightstand before really nestling into bed, facing the TV that’s mounted on the opposite wall.
Slowly, my body relaxes, more than it has in a long while. I’ve missed company in bed. Mine has been so quiet and empty, lonely. Just having him next to me makes me feel better.
Even with my life up in question, Jensen makes the future feel less intimidating. My career. My relationship with Jensen. The possibility that I’m … pregnant. The world around me is spinning faster than I can handle it, but he’s my constant, keeping me grounded.
“Good night,” he whispers and turns the TV down.
We’ve always slept with the TV on—or at least Jensen has. I know he hates the dark ever since that night on the bridge. I don’t love it, but it doesn’t bother me, and if it makes him feel more at peace, then I can live with it.
“Good night,” I whisper back, suddenly emotional out of nowhere.
It takes me a moment to recognize what I’m feeling.
I’m scared … scared that my decision to be at his side today will cost me my job, that I’m pregnant with my asshole ex’s baby, and that my life is spiraling out of control.
I brush the blanket out on my lap, fidgeting with it, and rest my hands flat at my sides. A tear rolls down my cheek, and I let it fall wherever it may.
My pinkie twitches, and for a second, I imagine that Jensen’s hand is reaching out for mine, as if it’s his heart stretching out to intertwine with my own.
A song plays in the background, some lovey-dovey tune in their Valentine’s Day special episode does little to ease the racing in my chest and the dream playing out in my mind.
Another tear streaks down my temple and into my hair.
Something brushes my pinkie, and this time, I suck in a sharp breath because it’s not my imagination; it’s real. Jensen’s finger grazes mine, and time stands still.
A delicate caress gently sweeps over my finger before something nestles in the crook between my ring finger and pinkie.
No words are spoken, no confessions made, not a peep from either of us as we sit above time and space, where we’re the only two people in the world, without worry or fear of what’s around the corner.
That’s how we stay until the night fades away and our dreams pull us under.
Morning creeps into the corners of my eyes as they flutter open. A foreign closet stares at me, and it takes me a moment to remember that I’m not at my apartment. I’m at Jensen’s place.
My mind starts waking up more and more. I should go grab ice and some ibuprofen for Jensen when he wakes up. His knee is going to be very tender and sore.
Stretching my toes straight down in bed, I freeze in place as I realize the thing behind me isn’t a pillow. My body instantly becomes aware of his presence draped over me like my own personal blanket.
His arm stretches across my waist, his fingers wrapping beneath my torso, locking me in place. The length of his body is firmly pressed against mine, every long, toned inch of him.
A groan escapes his lips, and my cheeks burn as his warm breath strokes my ear. My breathing quickens, and I wet my lips, contemplating how I’m going to slither out from his grasp without him waking.
Moving my legs ever so slightly, I feel his knees pressing into the backs of my calves. The second I move, he’s going to wake, and I’m scared of causing him any more pain than he’s already going to be in when he comes to.
Shit.
Softly clearing my throat, I rub his forearm with my thumb. “Hey.” I pause, waiting for any sign that he’s awake. “Jensen.”
