“I still sleep with a light on sometimes. When I have nightmares.”
“About what?”
“Damien, mostly. The apartment we shared. The way it felt to be trapped with someone who was supposed to love you.” I hadn’t meant to say that much. The wine was loosening my tongue.
Caelan’s hand tightened on mine. His jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscle jump.
“If I ever see him...”
“You won’t do anything.” I squeezed his hand. “He’s not worth it. He’s not worth you getting in trouble.”
“He hurt you.”
“And I survived. I got out. And now I’m here, in my apartment, with candles and bad pasta and a strange beautiful man who ran through a storm to help me.” I smiled, hoping to ease the fury I could see building in his eyes. “That’s the happy ending, Caelan. Focus on that.”
He looked like he wanted to argue, but he took a breath, then another, and let it go.
“You think I’m beautiful?” he asked, his voice lighter now, though his eyes still held shadows.
“Oh my god. That’s what you took from that?”
“It’s the part I liked best.”
I laughed despite myself. “You love fishing for compliments. You’re ridiculous, you know that?”
“I’m also beautiful..” He leaned closer, his free hand coming up to cup my jaw. “And strange. Don’t forget strange.”
“Very strange,” I agreed, my voice barely a whisper.
“Good strange or bad strange?”
“Jury’s still out.”
“Then I’ll have to keep convincing you.” His thumb traced my cheekbone, the movement going straight to my core. “I’m very patient, Riley. I can wait as long as you need.”
I smiled, clearing my throat to distract him from the fact that my breathing was failing me and I wasveryturned on by his closeness, his scent, his words and the sheer presence of him. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice, and the conversation kept going easily until my words started to slur and his eyes started to drift closed mid-sentence.
“You’re exhausted,” I whispered.
“I’m fine.”
“You just fell asleep sitting up.”
He blinked his eyes open. “I was resting my eyes.”
“Sure.” I took his empty plate, set it on the coffee table. “Lie down. Sleep. I’ll get blankets.”
“I… I should go.”
Fuck me, but I really, really didn’t want him to.
“The storm hasn’t stopped, and you’re dead on your feet.” I pushed him gently toward the couch cushions. “Sleep. I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”
He caught my wrist before I could pull away. His grip was gentle but firm.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For letting me stay. For trusting me.”
“You ran through a storm for me. Least I could do is give you a couch.”
