When his heat left my body, I pushed myself up to rest my back against the headboard, feeling self-conscious. I stared at his long, muscled body. His bearded jaw, chocolate threaded with silver. His hair was rumpled with sleep, his cheeks flushed.
“You’re sleeping in bed with me,” I stated the obvious.
Beau pushed off the bed, separating us. I suppose that was prudent, but I was immensely disappointed at the loss of hisnearness. I was coming to understand how starved I was for human contact. For comfort. For Beau.
Sure, the deep and dreamless sleep I’d enjoyed could’ve been down to pure exhaustion and some pharmaceutical help, but I had a sneaking suspicion the sense of safety came from Beau.
I hadn’t realized how much I craved affection. Contact.Him.
Beau cracked his neck. “You had a bad dream, and you requested, or, uh, demanded, my presence.” To my surprise, his voice was not distant. It was almost warm.
I rubbed my eyes, questioning whether my sleep really had been dreamless. Flashes of images were coming back to me.
I’d woken, reaching for the man who had been cradling my face as I slept. Yet he hadn’t been there. I’d been clutched with panic that I’d imagined him. That I’d imagined everything, and I was back in a lumpy bed in a cold trailer, about to wake up to a horrible man.
I’d called Beau’s name like a prayer.
One he’d answered.
Heat filled my cheeks at calling out to him like I was a helpless child.
“Sorry,” I quickly said, overcome with guilt. He’d spent years caring for a literally sick child. I’d turned him into a caretaker once more. “You didn’t have to.”
His canine snagged his plump bottom lip as he regarded me. I wanted to squirm under his gaze—it was that probing. Yet there was also a softness there, in the way he looked at me, his posture relaxed. “You were sick and scared and asked for me, Hannah.” He shrugged, speaking quietly. “I did have to.”
I struggled to swallow, my thumping head battling for dominance against my thundering heart.
Beau walked around the bed to my side. I watched in silence as he grasped a bottle of water, shook two pills into his palm, then presented them to me.
I took them wordlessly, both because I needed them and because I didn’t have the words to try to explore this new territory. Nor did I have the strength.
“I’ll order you breakfast,” he informed me, watching me take the pills. “Any requests?”
I shook my head. I couldn’t have named a breakfast item right then if I tried. I barely remembered my own name.
Beau nodded and walked out of the room.
I sank my head back into the pillows, looking at the ceiling. I felt crummy, for sure, but nowhere near as bad as last night. Not the flu. Probably just a nasty cold.
Pulling back the covers, I placed my feet into slippers that were considerately positioned at the side of the bed. Had Beau put them there?
Smiling, I walked to the living room where I could hear Beau’s rumbling voice.
How could I feel terribly wretched and pleased at the same time? I knew how…because I’d slept in bed with Beau Shaw’s arms around me last night. Because Beau Shaw took care of me without hesitation. Because, maybe, maybe I was going to get something sweet from him. Maybe, just maybe, I’d get everything I ever dreamed of from him.
When I entered the living room, his back was turned to me, phone to his ear. My stomach pitched, seeing the tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there moments ago.
“I’ll be right there.” His tone was curt. Cold once again.
He turned to me, and my smile froze on my face.
Because his face was painted with fear.
“Clara’s sick.”
fifteen
HANNAH
