I peeled off her coat before she wandered away from me.
I followed her.
I’d always follow.
And that was how I found myself standing in the middle of Whitney’s bedroom.
She went to sit on the edge of the bed but missed it by a mile and ended up on the floor before I could reach her. Laughing, she hugged her knees to her chest. “Okay. No more obstacles for me. Imma sleep here,” she drawled.
“No, you’re not.” I pried off her clogs and then went to work on her knee socks. They were pink and printed with ice cream cones. “Cute.”
“If you’re gonna wear compression socks, might as well make ’em cute.”
I hooked my hands under her arms, pulling her up from the floor. She wrapped herself around me, arms, legs, everything. I sighed into her shoulder. Being with her like this, exactly as I’d pissed and moaned about all day, was what I needed. It was all I’d ever need.
Once she was seated on the bed, I reached for her shirt. “Arms up, baby.”
With the most adorable huff in the world, she complied. “My socks are cute,” she said, her words coming in lazy bursts. “But my bra is not.”
“You’re cute.” I tossed her top to the other side of the room, toward a door I guessed was the closet. The bra was of theathletic variety and getting it over her head was like wrestling a dolphin. Too difficult for me to take any pleasure in the affair.
I had about three seconds of her sitting there, topless and delirious with exhaustion, before she flopped backward and wiggled out of her scrub bottoms. She kicked them right over my head, which was honestly impressive. Phenomenal aim. But this left her in a little pair of panties and not a single thing else.
I swallowed. Shoved both hands through my hair. Stared at the ceiling while I reminded myself of her boundaries.
“Let’s get you something to sleep in, sweetheart.”
“Nope.” She reached behind a pillow and pulled out something that looked like a big sweater. “I’m good.”
As she shoved her arms through the sleeves, I realized it wasn’t a sweater. It wasmyfleece jacket. The one I gave her that day in the auditorium.
All this time, I figured she’d tossed it in the lost and found bin or stuck it in the back of a closet. I figured it hadn’t mattered to her.
But—
She’d kept it.
She tucked it behind her pillow.
She wore it tobed.
I took a step back as the truth settled down around me like I was sitting in the bottom of the hourglass, sand falling until I was buried in it.
Whit nestled into the pillows and tucked her knees into the fleece. She held out a hand. It just about broke me. “Don’t go.”
She didn’t mean that. I picked up her phone from the floor and plugged it in. I ran my hand over her forehead. “Get some rest, Whit.”
“Please?” She closed her hand around my forearm. “I’ll be good.”
“I’d expect nothing less,” I said. “I seem to recall you being averygood girl when you want to be.”
A silly grin split her face and I could feel the better judgment exiting my body. “Why are you so nice to me?” she asked.
“Because you deserve it.”
With her free hand, she patted the mattress beside her. The other hand yanked on my arm. “Stay.”
She was swimming in that fleece, half her face hidden under the collar, and I loved it. “You wouldn’t want that if you weren’t out of your mind tired.”
