I hold him as his breathing evens out, keeping my own breaths steady and calm.Justbefore he drifts off, he mumbles somethingthatmight be"thank you."
"Sometimes being different isn't wrong," I whisper. "It's just... different."
Finally, he drifts into sleep, his breath warm and steady against my chest. I press my lips to his temple, gently, so I don't jostle him awake."I've got you,"I whisper, knowing he's already asleep.
Outside, Minneapolis traffic hums. Rylan's warm weight against me anchors me as I stare into the dark, wondering when exactly I started falling in love with this man.
Chapter 18
RYLAN
Warmth. Safety. The thump of a heartbeat under my ear. I'm cocooned in a scent that's becoming way too familiar:JamiePirelli. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, radiating heat through his worn t-shirt.
For one perfect moment, I float in that space between sleeping and waking, where nothing exists exceptJamie'sarms around me and his fingers tangled in my hair.
Then reality crashes back.
Dad. Wally's texts. The police. Dad. And then Jamie taking charge while my brain struggled to process. Jamie holding me–fuck.
My whole body tenses. Jamie's breathing changes tempo, but he doesn't wake.
I should move. Should put myself back together and—
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. It's probably Constable Dave with an update aboutDad.
Mybrainscreams at me torun, but he tightens his arms around me without waking up, and I letmyselfstay.I can't forcemyselfaway from this feeling ofbeingsafe. Ofbeingwrapped up in his solid, warmbody.
Jamie stirs. "Time's it?" he mumbles into my hair.
Here's the point where I would normallyrunand hide. Like I did in San Diego.
But Dad's in the hospital. Jamie's mom has contacts at treatment centers. AndJamie...
Jamieshared pieces of himself last night. Things he's never told anyone else. He trusted me. I can at leasttryto trust him.
"Early,"I manage."But I should check on my dad."
He loosens his arms, giving me space to movewithoutcompletely letting go."Want me to order breakfast? Your flight's not until nine."
His simple offer of practical help makes a lump rise in my throat."Yeah. Thanks."
I sit up slowly, and Jamie's hand slides to my lower back. It's warm and steady. It grounds me and helps me feel even more safe.
"I forwarded you those treatment center details from my mom,"he says quietly."If you still want them. And she offered to answer any questions you might have. I put her contact info in the email."
I should say no. Should handle this alone. I should…
"Thank you,"I whisper. For some reason, accepting his help feels like jumping off a cliff.
Icheckmy messages while Jamie climbs out of bed. Two texts from Dave Mitchell: Dad's stable, got some decent sleep. Doc Matthews wants to run a couple more tests thismorning.
I shake my head. Fuck, I'mlucky. Not many police officers would not only take thetowndrunkto the health clinic instead of tossing him into a jail cell to sober up but would alsocheckup on thedrunkin themorning, long after his shift has ended, and report back to the family. Like I said: reallucky.
Jamie moves around the room, somehow giving me the space I need while still being present with me. He'salreadyorderedbreakfast and pulled up my flight details."Your Uber will be here in about forty-five minutes."
"Thanks."My voice comes out rough. I clear my throat."I should pack."
"Already started." He gestures to my open suitcase with most of my clothes folded neatly inside. "Hope that's okay." He chews on his lip, looking uncertain.
