He hesitates. Then he reaches down, brushes a strand of hair from Tessa’s face with a gentleness that makes something twist in my chest. She doesn’t wake, just turns her face into his touch, chasing the contact even in sleep.
“Take care of her,” he says quietly.
“Always.”
He nudges Milo awake—a feat that involves some prodding and a muttered threat—and they shuffle toward the bedroom. Milo pauses in the doorway, looks back at me with knowing eyes.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he says.
“That leaves a pretty wide field.”
“Exactly.” He winks and disappears.
The bedroom door clicks shut. And suddenly it’s just me and Tessa and the crackle of the fire.
She whimpers again, twisting in the blankets. Her hand reaches out, grasping at nothing. Searching.
“Hey.” I crouch beside the pull-out bed, pitch my voice low. “Tessa. You’re okay.”
Her eyes flutter open. For a second she looks lost—then her gaze lands on me and her whole body relaxes.
“Ben?”
“The one and only.” I try for a smile. “Though I’ve been told there’s a Ben Wilson in Bozeman who’s much more impressive. Lawyer, apparently. Very serious.”
She doesn’t laugh. Just stares at me with those dark eyes, her breath coming too fast, her skin flushed with heat.
“I feel...” She shakes her head. “Everything’s too much. Too hot. Too tight. Like my skin doesn’t fit right.”
“That’s the pre-heat talking. Your body’s gearing up for the main event.” I grab the glass of water I’ve been refilling all night. “Here. Drink.”
She takes it, and I notice her hands are trembling. She manages a few sips before setting it aside.
“Where are the others?”
“Sent them to bed. They were dead on their feet.” I settle on the floor beside the pull-out, back against the couch frame. “You’re stuck with me for the night shift. Fair warning: I’ve been told I’m terrible company after midnight. Something about ‘too many bad jokes’ and ‘please stop talking about conspiracy theories.’“
That gets a small smile. Barely there, but I’ll take it.
“I can’t sleep,” she says. “I’ve tried. Every time I close my eyes, I just...” She trails off, frustrated.
“Feel like you’re going to crawl out of your skin?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
I nod slowly, thinking. “Okay. New plan. You’re not gonna sleep, and I’m apparently incapable of it, so let’s do something else.”
“Like what?”
“Come on.” I stand, offer her my hand. “There’s something I want to show you.”
She looks at my hand, then at me. “Ben, I can barely walk straight.”
“Then I’ll catch you. I’m good at catching things. Footballs, car keys, feelings...” I waggle my fingers. “Trust me.”
She takes my hand. Her skin is hot—too hot—and I can feel the fine tremors running through her. I pull her up slowly, steady her when she sways.
“Easy. I’ve got you.”
