I pushed open West’s bedroom door with my hip, careful not to spill the coffee as I balanced the tray. The sight that greeted me made my heart clench. West was sprawled on his bed, eyes closed, looking utterly drained. The smell of soap clung to his damp skin, a stark contrast to the lingering scent of smoke in the air.
“Hey,” I said softly, setting the tray on the nightstand. “You awake?”
West’s eyes fluttered open, a weak smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, just resting my eyes.”
I adjusted the pillows behind his back, smoothing the wrinkles from his comforter. “Let’s get you comfortable,” I murmured, grabbing an extra blanket from the closet. “You must be freezing.”
As I draped the blanket over him, West caught my wrist. “Drew,” he said, his voice rough. “Thank you. For everything.”
I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the warmth of his touch. “Of course. That’s what friends are for, right?”
West’s grip tightened, his hazel eyes intense as they locked onto mine. “It’s more than that. I…I need to tell you something.”
My heart hammered. “What is it?”
“I’ve been… God, this is hard.” West took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry about my behavior with Patrick. I mean, Dr. McMartin. I guess…I’m a little jealous of the time you’re spending together. And scared that I’m losing you.”
My mind reeled, trying to process West’s words. Was this why he’d been acting so strange, working all the hours and avoiding me?
“West, I…” I began, my voice cracking. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Patrick’s just a friend. You know that, right? There’s no way he could ever take your place.”
West’s eyes searched mine, hope and uncertainty warring in his gaze. “Really?” he asked softly.
I sat on the edge of the bed, close enough that our knees almost touched. “Really,” I assured him. “You’re my family, West. That’s never going to change.”
The room fell silent. The only sound was our breathing. The air felt thick, electric with possibility. I was acutely aware of how close we were, of the warmth radiating from West’s body. My fingers itched to reach out and touch him, to offer comfort or…something more.
I licked my suddenly dry lips. “West, I?—”
But the words stuck in my throat. What if I was misreading things? What if this ruined everything?
West’s eyes flicked to my lips, then back to my eyes. He swallowed hard. “Drew…can you stay with me a little longer?” His voice was barely above a whisper, thick with vulnerability.
My heart skipped a beat. “Of course,” I murmured, unable to deny him anything in that moment. “Let me grab a quick shower, and I’ll be right back. You eat that toast and drink the coffee.”
“Yes, sir,” he joked.
When I returned, I carefully climbed onto the bed next to West. We lay facing each other, close but not quite touching. The tension between us was a living, breathing thing.
“Thanks,” West mumbled, his eyelids already drooping. The stress of last night’s events was clearly catching up to him.
I relaxed, drinking in the sight of him. His curls were mussed, his face soft with exhaustion. Before I knew it, my own eyes were closing.
When I woke, moonlight was streaming through the window. West’s face was inches from mine, so close I could feel his warm breath on my cheek. My arm had found its way around his waist.
I froze, not daring to move. West’s eyes fluttered open, meeting mine. For a long moment, we just stared at each other. Even in the moonlight, I could have counted his eyelashes, mapped every fleck of gold in his hazel eyes.
“Hi,” West murmured, making no move to pull away.
“Hi,” I echoed, my voice rough with sleep. “How’re you feeling?”
West’s lips quirked in a small smile. “Better. Thanks to you.”
We fell silent again, the air charged with unspoken words.
Finally, West spoke. “Remember that promise we made? Back when we were kids?”
I nodded, my throat tight. “Of course. That we’d always be there for each other, no matter what.”
