“Mmmmm.”
“Do I need to carry you?”
Her eyes fluttered open and I felt a wave of sadness consume me. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for Spencer. Poor bastard never stood a chance. Lying there with her hair fanned out across the pillow, a trail of dried drool across her chin, her eyelashes glued together with the remnants of sleep, barely coherent, and she was still as gorgeous as ever. Fuck, I missed him. These should be his moments, not mine.
Shaking off the thought, I scooped her into my arms and carried her into her room before placing her in her bed, leaving a chaste kiss on her forehead. “Sweet dreams, Zoe.”
“Thanks, Spence,” she murmured before sleep claimed her again.
The pain in my chest was all consuming. I know she didn’t mean to hurt me, she never would, but fuck if it didn’t sting. I was the one there night after night looking after her, not Spencer. I was the one putting my life on hold for her. Giving up my dreams to make sure she ate and bathed and dragged her ass out of bed each day, yet his name was the one that fell from her lips in the moments before sleep claimed her.
I was an asshole. What sort of prick was jealous of his deceased best friend? Me, that’s who.
