“Of course I will,” I promised, wincing a little as I shifted my weight to try and minimize tomorrow’s pain.
Rene’s head shot up, and he peered over the edge of the bed. “Oh, I’m sorry, no, don’t stay if it hurts your knees. I’ll… I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll makesureyou’re fine,” I corrected him. “Because I’ll be right here.” He started to shake his head, but that wasn’t what we’d agreed on. “Idecide, sweetheart.”
That was non-negotiable now. My room, my rules.
“Oh,” Rene said softly, his eyes going wide.
Then he sucked his lower lip between his teeth, the motion unmistakable even in the dark, and it took everything I had not to pull it free like I had before, lean down, and—
“You could sit on the bed,” he blurted, saving me from doing something irrevocably stupid. “If you wanted to,” he added in a whisper. “If you didn’t think your hus—I mean, if no one would mind.” He scooted away from me, making room. “I won’t touch you, Mr. Garrett. I promise. I’ll be good.”
“It’s Edward,” I said, not wanting any formality between us. Buthewouldn’t touchme?
My lips twitched, and the ridiculousness of the sweet boy trying to protectmyvirtue fromhim—when, had things been different, I would have moved heaven and earth to make someone like him mine—would have made me laugh if that other slip of his hadn’t suddenly caught up with me.
My husband. It hit me almost as hard as the first time he’d said it. This time, though, I was better prepared. And maybe it was also easier to deal with in the dark… and when it came hot on the heels of the realization that Rene thoughthewas doing something wrong by accepting comfort from me. Something he only thought because he clearly assumed I belonged to someone else.
Which… wasn’t wrong.
But also wasn’t right anymore, either.
Not entirely.
I pushed away that disloyal thought before it sucked me under. Right now,Reneneeded me.
I rose to my feet, knees popping in a way they hadn’t twenty years ago, the first time I’d realized how irrationally terrified Blair was of the dark and rushed to his bedside… and then never left.
This would be different, obviously, but I could still offer the same comfort.
Well, no. Not thesamecomfort. Not the sweaty, naked kind that Blair had needed. But I also wasn’t about to let Rene lie here and suffer when I could at least offersomecomfort.
“You can touch me if it helps,” I said, settling onto the bed next to Rene when he scooted over, his head on the pillow near my hip and my back against the headboard with my legs stretched out in front of me. “Do you want to hold my hand, baby?”
“Yes,” he said, without moving. “But is that… okay?”
He meant, was it okay withBlair.
“Yes,” I said, reaching out to find the hand he didn’t have clutched around his bear, then threading our fingers together. “It’s okay. I told you, whatever you need. I just want to take care of you tonight. And Blair—” I had to clear my throat, but it still surprised me how little I stumbled over his name, “—my husband wouldn’t have minded.”
Not true, if Blair had still been alive. He’d been just as territorial and possessive about me as I’d been about him. But now that he was gone? I’d heard it from my friends for years: Blair wouldn’t have wanted me to be alone. The thing they never understood, though, was that me not moving on had never been about whatBlairwanted.
It was about what I deserved.
Or more specifically, after failing to keep my promise to always take care of him, about what Ididn’tdeserve.
Next to me, Rene’s slight body had gone even more still than he’d been before.
“Wouldn’t have?” he finally repeated, rolling onto his back to look up at me without letting go of either my hand or his bear. “Is he… he’s not… are you… um, is your husband… gone?”
“Yes,” I said, waiting for the wave of grief… and it came. Lighter than I expected, though. Held at bay by the unexpected gift beside me. “I used to take care of him, too,” I added, unprompted. Surprising myself bywantingto talk about it. “All the time, because that’s the way we both liked it, but especially at night, because he had trouble sleeping.”
“He did?” Rene asked, perking up a little. “Like me?”
“He was afraid of the dark, too.”
Rene made a small sound—maybe empathy, or maybe just plain relief that he wasn’t the only one afflicted with that fear—and a deep sense of satisfaction rolled through me. Not that I wanted him to be afraid of anything, of course, but while he may have been a stranger, being able to successfully piece together the clues of who he was went to prove that I could trust my instincts. That I wasn’t wrong about Rene. Wasn’t wrong about what he needed. Wasn’t wrong that he neededme.
