As soon as I stepped into the dimly lit hallway of my apartment, my belly sank a little. It was coming up on one in the morning, so I shouldn’t be surprised to find my place as quiet as it usually was at this time.
In the living room, the moonlight filtered through the blinds, casting long shadows over the furniture. No signs of an Adam that had stayed up late reading on the couch and then fallen asleep.
I made my way down the small hallway. His bedroom door was closed. I shouldn’t be disappointed, but it was a sign that I’d already allowed Adam to burrow too deep inside my heart. I couldn’t help the feeling.
Bypassing my room, I went straight to the bathroom and took a quick shower to get ready for bed. I’d never had to worry about moving around my place late at night, but since Adam moved in, I’d been more mindful of the noise because the bathroom was right across from his bedroom.
But as I walked past the threshold of my bedroom, there Adam was, sprawled across my bed, a peaceful expression softening his features.
He must have dozed off while waiting.
I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, taking in the scene I’d so often imagined but never thought would happen. Adam’s chest rose and fell with the slow cadence of deep sleep, his breaths quiet whispers in the darkened room.
There was a book on the floor where his hand hung off the bed.
With careful movements, I sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under my weight. Adam stirred, a soft sigh escaping him, but he did not wake.
I slid under the covers, leaving a gap between us. Sleeping in the same bed was getting into even more dangerous territory than kissing or having sex, but after having a small taste of Adam, I couldn’t stop myself from wanting the whole thing.
I slid forward, ever so slightly, bridging the gap between us. At the same time, Adam shifted in his sleep as though he knew I was there. His back nestled against my chest, so I draped my arm around him, pulling him closer still.
I closed my eyes and breathed in the familiar scent that clung to Adam before placing a soft kiss on the back of his neck.
As sleep claimed me, I allowed myself to pretend this was my new future. Adam and I together, sharing a bed, waking up to each other every morning.
22
ADAM
Clutching a box of Kleenex like a life raft, I lay sprawled beneath a tangle of blankets, feeling every inch the pathetic sight I must have presented. The tickle at the back of my throat was a constant reminder, not that I needed one, of the minor cold that had taken up residence in my sinuses.
I heard the door click open and closed with the familiar sound of River’s return. I wanted to greet him at the door, pull him in, and push him against the wall, kissing him senseless. Instead, I was a soggy vegetable with no energy.
“Hey,” River called out as he entered the living room, his voice carrying the soft edges of concern. His eyes found me on the couch, an expression of wry sympathy crossing his face.
“Hey,” I managed, my words muffled by congestion. “Sorry for the biohazard zone.”
River chuckled, taking a seat on the edge of the couch.
“Doesn’t look like you’ve got a fever,” he observed, pressing the back of his hand against my forehead. “Probably just a twenty-four-hour thing.”
“Thanks, Dr. Hartley,” I joked weakly, grateful for his lack of hesitation, even in the face of my germy state.
“Always here for you, Adam,” he replied, sincerity threaded through his gentle tone.
I shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position without losing the warmth River brought into the room. The familiar scent of Lusitana clung to him—a mixture of spices and comfort that had come to signify home in my mind.
“Mind if I join your infirmary?” he asked, already sliding closer until his thigh pressed reassuringly against mine.
“Your funeral,” I teased, though the fondness in my voice betrayed my true feelings. River’s willingness to brave the snotty trenches with me was just another piece of evidence in the growing case of how much he meant to me.
He settled in next to me, careful not to jostle me too much as he draped an arm around my shoulders. “I’ll take my chances.”
In silence, we sank into the cushions, the hum of the outside world fading. It was these moments—quiet, unassuming—that made me wonder just how deep my feelings for River ran.
“Thanks for being here,” I whispered after a while.
“Wouldn’t be anywhere else,” River murmured, his fingertips absently tracing patterns on the blanket that covered us both.
